Where Are Ya, Destroya?
by TheAliway
Summary: Meet Angel. She's seventeen and lives in the desert. She doesn't want to fight Dracs or go on piracy raids or put herself or her family at risk, but how long can she stay out of the war? A My Chemical Romance - The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys fic.
1. Chapter 1

INTRODUCTION

I started writing this mainly as an experiment. I see plenty of Danger Days-inspired fanfiction centred on The Fabulous Killjoys, and original characters heavily involved with said Fabulous Killjoys. This is of course logical. But I was curious - no fanfics I'd read seemed to mention anything other than "important" people. The true 'killjoys', the renegades running around chasing BL/ind agents and basically getting themselves killed. Either best friends, related to or romantic with The Fabulous Killjoys.

And all I could think was, where do their ray guns come from? How do they fuel their cars? Where do they get their supplies? Who fixes them up when they get themselves almost killed?

This fanfiction is based on those people. The story they lead may be extraordinary (in my opinion anyway), but the characters themselves are ordinary. Refugees trying to escape the iron hold of Battery City - idealists trying to return to a 'pure' way of life, people just trying to survive. People who don't care about gang wars or BL/ind or trying to create trouble.

My fanfiction is from the point of view of one of these people - a girl living in a large settlement struggling to make ends meet. She's not concerned with BL/ind or Dracs - her main worry is about her pregnant older sister and making sure both mother and child survive the impending childbirth. Dracs, bandits, renegades - they're all the same to her, and all she wants is to survive as easily as possible in this hostile new world.  
>But for this girl, her already fragile world is about to be thrown into yet more chaos. She's not a fighter - she doesn't even own a gun. But soon she will be thrown into the fight of her life, into a new struggle that she did not ask for. Will she rise to the challenge? Or will she buckle under the pressure? Who knows what will happen? After all, she's not a fighter, not a 'killjoy' or renegade.<br>She's just a girl.

Chapter 1

It was a hot day.

Every day was a hot day. But this day felt particularly hot. Angel didn't know if maybe the radiation levels were higher and that was why it felt so hot, or if it was just stress. Usually the heat didn't worry her all that much, but today she was just sweltering in her boots.

Damn, she wished she had a car.

Midas had a car. But then Midas was older than her. He'd never let her borrow his car, it was his baby.

Well, until the real baby came. As soon as the baby was born – depending on the success of the birth, of course – Midas would have a new gem to fuss and coo over.

Maybe that was why she was stressed – the baby. She may not be the pregnant one, but that didn't mean that Harmony didn't take every opportunity to make Angel feel as bad as she felt – if it wasn't running her off her feet with errands to prepare for the upcoming birth, it was griping and bitching and moaning about how horrible she felt until even Angel felt like crap as well.

Harmony was a great big sister, but damn, she was an awful pregnant woman.

Angel sighed. She couldn't blame Harmony, really. Harmony was just worried. If there was one thing they told you NOT to do in the desert, it was to have babies.

The terrible conditions made it nigh impossible to have a baby safely and healthily. The heat dehydrated both mother and child, and in a place where water was hard to find, dehydration was serious. There were no hospitals in the desert, no sanitised closed-off areas where women could give birth safely and privately. No doctors, no medical crews. Harmony had been seeing a woman with qualifications in midwifery, an unflappable woman named Donorcycle (apparently she'd always get motorcycle crash patients in med school purely by coincidence, hence the name), but just one doctor in a desert with no medical facilities didn't make anyone feel much better.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the radiation meant that most babies were born with horrific birth defects anyway, and didn't survive long.

Having children was an emotionally draining, dangerous and difficult venture out in the desert. Angel almost never saw kids around, and the few healthy kids she saw were.. abnormal. Born with wildly coloured hair and eyes, the only children to survive childbirth were almost like a new breed. Smaller and built with slender bodies, with dark skin covered in light downy hair, these children were true desert-dwellers adapted to survive their harsh conditions.

The children scared Angel. They were proof of the fact that she and the other zonerunners were a dying breed. Humans were clinging grimly on to their old ways, but nature was ripping them away, giving the world to a new type of people. Humans couldn't survive in this hostile new world, despite their attempts, and the children were a message from nature - _"your time is up"_.

The world had changed, and the human race had been left behind. They were relics, museum artifacts. Out with the old, in with the new.

Angel shook the gloomy thoughts from her head. Her race may be at their end, but that didn't mean that her life was over. She had time to live, and boy did she want to live it.

She stood up, looking out over the neverending expanse of dirt, dust and scraggly bushes and shrubs, deformed little plants struggling to survive as she was.

She was in a good place for a view. This had to be her favourite spot in the desert – the edge of a plateau that rose up into rocky, craggy mountain ranges. Somewhere a few miles down, the plateau sloped gently down into gentle craggy hills that met the flat expanse of desert gracefully. However, her destination was a few miles further up – a violent section of rocky cliffs along the ridge that, to those unaccustomed to the harsh environment, were impossible to navigate. The cliffs sloped inwards into a small cavelike gorge, hidden by the rocks and mountains, which led to a canyon that eventually joined into a small valley known as Zone 6, or The Sanctum.

The Sanctum was a valley surrounded by high, craggy mountains and ridges that were impossible to cross if you didn't know how to get in. The lake in the middle and the slightly cooler temperatures from the elevation made it a much more hospitable environment than the surrounding desert, and as such it was a roaring community, filled with people trying to get on with their lives.

The Sanctum was relatively peaceful, but most people there ran in gangs that were not always friendly to each other. But all the gangs were well aware of the need to work together to survive, so riots and gang wars were few and far between.

Angel's little family wasn't part of a gang, but they lived in a peaceful family-friendly area of The Sanctum ruled by the biggest gang in the desert, Dice. Despite not being directly affiliated with the gang, Dice took care of Angel's family and kept them safe from harm.

It was probably the best place you could find to have a baby, without resorting to returning to Battery City.

Angel and her sister had fled Battery City nearly seven years ago. Harmony had always been a bit of a hippie, and the oppressive, hostile nature of the city had depressed her. Despite the comfort and relative luxury of living in the city, Battery City was ruled primarily by a company known as BL/ind. For the safety of its citizens (as they claimed), BL/ind kept a totalitarian grip over everyone in the city, to the point of banning colour and music – anything that could evoke extreme behaviour like disorder or violence – and encouraging citizens to take emotion-suppressing pills to minimise violence or anti-social behaviour. While the crime rate of Battery City had all but disappeared and Battery City was extremely safe and comfortable, the rules and pills had reduced Battery City to a stark, emotionless, dystopian society where the citizens had no privacy, and little free will or rights.

Harmony had been angered at the oppression and dystopian rule, and after being arrested several times for protesting, she had eventually packed her and Angel's life away and driven them out of Battery City in Harmony's beloved powder-blue Combi van.

At first, it had been exciting. It was evening, and all the bright sunset colours and the newfound freedom and the sense of danger at running away had elated Angel. It was exciting, daring.

But the inexperienced girls had run into trouble fairly quickly. First they were kidnapped by bandits, and almost all of their possessions were stolen in the process. They were eventually rescued by a desert-dwelling gang, but the gang had forced them to work hard like slaves – making them do menial work like digging paddocks in an attempt at farming and building dwellings. They soon heard of The Sanctum, and – renewed by a childlike naivety and hippie idealism – Harmony had escaped with Angel to Sanctum.

The road had been difficult, though they managed to find other zonerunners heading to the valley. With their help, they made it to Sanctum and made it their home. Harmony had met Midas, and in her dream of creating a peaceful, nature-centred society and her idealistic view of staying close to nature by bearing children, she had gotten pregnant to him.

Angel had gone along with all of Harmony's plans and goals, because Harmony was her big sister and she trusted her. Even now, Angel didn't regret going with Harmony, though she'd resented her for it many times in the past. Angel felt she had to stick with her sister – family sticks together. And in the end, things had turned out okay. Life was hard, but she was happy – which was more than she'd been in Battery City, where you didn't even have the luxury to feel miserable.

She sighed. She wished she had a car. Then maybe she might be able to stay out a little longer. But no, she had the long trek back to The Sanctum to walk, and it sure as hell wasn't going to walk itself.

_Maybe if I had a motorcycle_, she mused. Motorcycles were easy to get – most bandits would just knock down a patrolling Drac and steal the bike to sell to the local garage shops in the desert. There was a surprising number of garage shops. Bikes were easy, but cars were a little more difficult to steal.

_Nah_, she told herself. _Harmony would kill me. Before the bike does, that is._

She looked around the canyon one last time. It was coming close to sunset, and the sky had taken on several spectacular hues of pink and purple. Wispy orange clouds floated near the sinking scarlet sun. The light show had turned the surrounding desert a wonderful lavender colour, glowing in hues of light blue and orange. Angel almost didn't want to look away, but she had to – the desert was dangerous after dark, and Harmony would give birth early if Angel came back late.

_Not that I can't protect myself_, Angel thought to herself, hefting her large spear in her hands. Harmony wouldn't let her have a gun (though Midas had offered), so Angel settled on a homemade spear made of bits of car parts and an old javelin. She'd also stuck a few feathers in it, a little personal touch.

As she walked back to The Sanctum, Angel wished for the millionth time that she had a friend to hang out with. There weren't many other teenagers in The Sanctum, and the few living there scorned her as a "runaway tumbleweed", a pampered Battery City kid trying out the novelty of life in the desert. _Not that I had much choice,_ Angel told herself. _It was Harmony's idea, her hippie dream. You just went along with it because she's your sister._

Angel looked back at the setting sun and smiled.

_Not that I regret any second of it._

The night life in Zone 6 was pretty unique. Since the daytime was usually too hot and zonerunners ran the risk of being spotted by Dracs or Scarecrows (BL/ind agents who patrolled the desert to keep it "safe", kind of like twisted versions of Mounties), most zonerunners ran their business and carried out their tasks in the safe cover of night. Since The Sanctum was off limits to bandits, people could go about their business in relative safety.

So when Angel got into The Sanctum, she found herself in the hustle and bustle of a typical working night in Zone 6.

Market vendors were selling their wares on the street; garage shops were open and grease monkeys openly tinkered on their precious engines, bodies slathered in that liquid gold known as oil; builders set up new dwellings to cope with the growing influx of refugees and Battery City escapees; trucks and donkey-drawn carts rumbled past carrying the precious materials and chemicals needed to produce ammunition for laser guns; they trundled into secretive establishments where the ammunition was created and sold on to weapons shops.

Angel smiled at a stall selling all manner of withered, dehydrated-looking fruit. Pests were no longer a concern in the desert, but it was still terribly hard to get crops to grow. Some new varieties of crops had been stolen from BL/ind laboratories that were able to withstand the harsh conditions, but they were difficult to get ahold of, as the few gangs who possessed these new varieties held on tightly to their precious life-giving plants.

She turned down several streets, and gradually left the business end of The Sanctum behind. Here she walked down streets lined with huts and shacks - "suburbia", if you will. Adults chatted outside to escape the heat inside their mostly rusty-corrugated-iron shelters, and Angel saw the occasional young child run past with a few friends.

Everyone looked so... happy. Even despite the harsh way of life and the constant threat of acid rain, radiation storms, drought and attack from bandits or Dracs, they looked free and content.

_I guess it just goes to show that money really doesn't buy happiness,_ Angel pondered. _I mean, we have no money at all. We just trade with what we have, what we can produce. We really have nothing. But everyone here looks so satisfied. _

"Hey there, Angel! Harmony will be glad to see you home before dark!"

Angel looked up and smiled at Acetone, a friendly man who lived across the street from her place. She'd grown quite friendly with her neighbours – very different to Battery City, where she'd never even said hello to their next door neighbour.

Acetone was a wealthy man who owned all manner of luxuries – he had a job in Battery City and went there regularly. As such, he was able to buy comforts like a pedestal fan, a refrigerator, a deep freezer, and a generator which he had running constantly to power his electrical luxuries. He even had a bunch of electric lights which lit up the street at night – most people used candles. Most of the people in the street often went to his place to give him perishables to freeze, and occasionally he'd bring his fan out into the street to cool down the younger kids on particularly hot days.

He was well off, but he was also exceptionally big-hearted, and Angel had always been fond of the twinkling-eyed, smart-mouthed fifty-something year old.

"Hey, Acetone," Angel replied. "How're you doing?"

"Just got back from BC," Acetone said, eyes sparkling behind his huge grey biker beard and beer gut. Angel didn't know how he got away with looking so rough in Battery City. "I picked up a few treats for the kids, but I had some left over. How about a Coke, sweetheart? It's still cold."

Angel's mouth dropped open. "Acetone, really?"

"Of course!" Acetone flapped his hand noncholantly. "I got money to burn, can't spend it all on myself. Let me grab one for you."

"Oh Ace, thank you so much!"

"No problem, little lady." Acetone ducked inside and reappeared, holding a shiny glass bottle of dark brown liquid, the glass covered in condensation. Angel took it as if it was made of gold.

"Now you enjoy that honey," Acetone said. "Plenty more where it came from. I know how you like the stuff, and frankly I encourage you rotting your teeth with this, rather than rotting your brain with that bootleg liquor I know some kids get ahold of."

"Oh, you bet I will Ace!" Angel said, grinning. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem!" Acetone laughed, a big rumbling chuckle that shook his belly. "You go home before Harmony freaks, okay? Send her my love. Oh! And don't forget to tell her, she needs to see the room I've set up for the birth. I've got it pretty much sorted in there."

"Sure, Ace, and thanks again," Angel said. "See you later!"

"See you round, sweetheart," Acetone said.

Angel ran into the hut with a new spring in her step. She pushed on the corrugated-iron door, and nearly fell in.

"Careful," Midas said, flashing her a quick grin.

Midas was a big man, the polar opposite of what Angel had expected for Harmony. He was muscly with tattoos, piercings and a wildly dyed-green fauxhawk. His blue eyes were kind, though, and he was as gentle as a newborn kitten. He also shared Harmony's dream, which was one of the main reasons they'd decided to take the risk of having a child.

"How was the plateau?"

"Great," Angel said. "I wish you'd teach me to drive, though. Walking all the way back is such a pain."

"I'll teach you to drive when you buy me another car so you can trash it instead of mine," Midas said. "I see you've been chatting to Acetone?"

Angel grinned down at the bottle. "Yeah. He said it was left over from giving treats to the kids, but I think he was just saying that."

"Yeah, he always keeps a Coke for you. Shame he won't keep a beer for me!" Midas laughed. "Fair enough, I suppose."

"How's Harmony?"

"She's alright, she's just in the kitchen."

"Cool. Seeya, Midas."

"Seeya, kid."

Angel walked through the living area into the kitchen. They were pretty lucky with their house – it was partly built into a cave in the side of the huge cliff of the mountain range that rose above, towering over the little community. The cave meant that during the hot day, everyone could retreat into the cave end of the house where it was cooler. There was also a nice cool basement built right into the cave, with a secret passage out of the house in case of a Drac or bandit raid.

Their kitchen was pretty modest, but it was enough for Harmony. She kept several pots of withered-looking herbs and edible plants on the counter, and there were shelves and a depression in the counter which could be used as a sink, though there was no plumbing. There was a communal bathroom in the middle of the street and that was it for plumbing.

Angel knocked on the counter. "Hi, Harmony."

Harmony looked up. Auburn brown hair curled and floated around her elfen face, perfectly setting off her green eyes. Her golden tanned skin glowed with the joy and promise of pregnancy, and she gently caressed her expansive belly through a light, tie-dyed floating dress. She was dressed in a typical hippie style, with long feathers in her hair and a plaited length of leather cord tied around her head.

Harmony was ridiculously beautiful. Angel almost resented her for it. And in pregnancy she just looked even more beautiful, despite how she raved on about looking like a whale. It wasn't fair.

Harmony frowned, her delicate eyebrows knitting together. "Angel, where were you? You're late, _again!_"

Angel sighed. "I was at the plateau. Where else would I be?"

"Locked up by some Drac squad, that's what! Or kidnapped by bandits! Good Gaea, Angel, you always get me so worried!"

Angel shrugged and kissed her sister on the cheek. "Chill out, I was fine."

"Whatever, don't scare me like that." She looked down at Angel's bottle of Coke. "I take it you went to see Acetone?"

"Yeah. He told me to tell you to go visit him – he says he's got the birthing room all set up."

Harmony's eyes went wide. "Oh thank Gaea! That Ace, what a sweetheart. I'm so relieved. The baby's due any day now, it's good to know he's all ready for it."

Upon hearing about the pregnancy, Acetone had offered to set up the cool basement in his house as a sort of birthing room, with as many materials and tools he could gather that would be appropriate for a childbirth. It had been a slow process, as it had been difficult to get all of the things needed out of Battery City. The last time Angel had seen it, it had a proper birthing bed, his pedestal fan to keep Harmony cool, a small refrigerator for things like water and herbs that Harmony wanted as "natural" pain relief, surgical tools like forceps and syringes, towels and blankets, a big exercise ball if Harmony wanted to move around during labour, rice packs, sterile bandages, antiseptic, clamps, and even a stereo if Harmony wanted to play music to calm herself down.

The room was clean and comfortable, with chairs and couches, and dark purple and blue drapes to make the room feel private, cosy and closed in. Harmony had even placed a few scented candles around the room for a nice soothing ambience. The room was almost perfect and as inviting as possible, but still – according to Harmony – needed one or two finishing touches to complete the room.

"Of course he's ready," Angel said. "You think he'd leave it unfinished before the birth? Ace has gotta be one of the most thorough guys in the Zones."

"And thank Gaea for that," Harmony said, driving her kitchen knife into a withered cucumber with a satisfied air. "We are so blessed to have him."

"Mmm." Angel stared into the silky bubbly depths of her Coke. Little bubbles popped and danced above the surface of the sugary liquid. They were lucky, no doubt about that. But how long would their luck last?

"Gaea to Angel?" Harmony flapped her hand in front of Angel's face. "C'mon, you're all quiet. What are you thinking about?"

Angel shrugged. "Just... I dunno. Acetone's not.. young," she said. "He's like... fifty. He's not going to be around forever. Even if he doesn't die of radiation sickness or cancer, what if we get a Drac raid? Or a major radiation storm? He's not going to last for the rest of our lives. We can't rely on him forever."

Harmony sighed irritably, banging the knife on the counter. "Oh Ange, don't get all morbid on me," she snapped. "You think I don't know that? You think anyone doesn't know that? We all know we're not going to live forever. We may have convinced ourselves of our own immortality before the Fires, but we're well aware of our own mortality now. We'll all rejoin Gaea someday. But we can't dwell on that, sweetheart."

Harmony walked over to Angel and gave her an awkward hug around her belly. "Damn, I'll be glad when I can hug you properly! But back to my point. We're put on this earth to DO things – why else would we bother living, just to eventually die? Life has to have a point, otherwise why would we live it?" She patted her belly. "My purpose is to take care of you and bring this little sprog into the world. To try and help rebuild our future. To create a world for my child that is safe and happy and in tune with the Goddess."

She ruffled Angel's black-brown hair. "You have a purpose too. You're still young, you're still finding it. But you'll find your purpose, and your life will have meaning. Acetone's life has meaning too. He helps us and brings us things we need. I won't last forever, he won't last forever. But we'll carry out our purposes before we die, and that's all I ask for. And don't worry about Acetone – when he is no longer with us, the Goddess will provide. She'll find a way. She'll bring another Acetone, someone else who will help us and provide for us. Trust me, Ange, it'll be okay."

She let go of Angel and waddled over into the living area, plonking herself on the couch with a grace that belied her awkward size, breathing a deep sigh. "Now," she said, "You run along and stop worrying about things like that, okay? Asking big questions you can't answer won't make life any easier."

Angel sighed. "Okay," she said. "You gimme a yell if you need any help getting up."

"Oh believe me, I will."

Angel left the living area, making her way through the house into the dark, cool basement. She liked the basement. At the moment it was a bedroom for Harmony and Midas, since the cooler temperature was kinder on Harmony's pregnant body and allowed her to sleep better.

She still liked going in there, though, even with the double mattress on the floor covered with old clothes and possessions. They didn't have much, but Midas still managed to make quite a considerable mess with what few items they did own.

She settled on the mattress with a sigh, flicking away a dirty sock. She pulled off her boots and socks, massaging her sore feet. She inspected the worn soles of her scuffed black calf-length combat boots with a frown. They'd lasted her well, but it seemed they were going to need replacing soon. After seven years, it wasn't going to last much longer. Acetone could fix them up only so many times.

She readjusted the silver anklet around her feet. It was a gift from her parents long ago. Back then, the delicate chain was too big for her. Now it fitted her perfectly, the silver angel wing charms hanging off the chain daintily, but her parents were no longer around to see her wear it. Despite that, she still made sure to wear it everywhere under her boots. It was her most valuable possession, in terms of sentimental value. She'd sell everything she owned if it meant keeping her anklet.

She stared down at her brown bare feet, toned and lightly muscled from seven years of manual work and walking everywhere. She wished they looked like Harmony's feet. Harmony's feet were slim and dainty, with perfect toenails and slim toes decorated with silver toe rings. She had narrow ankles and curvaceous calves, even in pregnancy when your ankles were supposed to swell.

Angel's feet were awkward, with big toes. Her toenails were ragged and unkempt. Her ankles were unremarkable, and her only shape her calves had were from physical work – naturally her legs were straight up-and-down.

Harmony was curvaceous and feminine. Angel had masculine shoulders and few curves. Their desert diet hadn't helped – one meal a day of withered vegetables and stringy chicken coupled with Angel's manual work helping in The Sanctum and her walking had left her pretty thin and wiry. She wished she was voluptuous like Harmony, but she feared that was never going to happen.

Even Harmony's hair outshined Angel's. Angel's hair was plain wavy black-brown and reached her shoulderblades, unlike Harmony's mass of curling auburn tresses that reached past her thighs.

Harmony's eyes were green. Angel's eyes were plain brown. Harmony had golden honey skin. Angel's skin was just brown from the sun. Harmony's features were elfen; Angel's face was sharp and angular. Harmony's hands were delicate and gentle; Angel's hands were awkward and roughened.

She sighed. Genetics weren't fair.

Even their clothes seemed to make Harmony look better. All of Harmony's floaty dresses and tie-dyed blouses made her look like some kind of earthy elf maiden. Angel looked stupid when she tried them on. In the end, she just stuck to her plain shirts and shorts ensemble, often with a jacket and leggings to protect her skin when the sun was particularly vicious.

The only thing that Angel thought looked better on her than Harmony was her favourite shirt, a sleeveless white top with a zipper running all the way down her back, and a large set of angel wings on either side of the zipper. It was a striking shirt, hard to miss. On Harmony it looked out of place, too harsh on her soft features.

On Angel it was perfect.

_Maybe I should wear it more often_, Angel mused.

Harmony's voice broke through her reverie. "Angel! I want to get up now! ANGEL!"

Angel smirked, imagining Harmony stuck on the couch like a beached whale. She walked back up to the living area, and burst out laughing at the sight – for once, Harmony really did look like a whale, stranded upon her couch island, unable to shift herself.

"It's not funny!" Harmony snapped, a pout on her delicate features. "Help me up!"

"Hold on, let me help," Angel said with a grin. "Sorry, sorry."

"You so aren't sorry!" Harmony ranted as Angel scooted under her arm, lifting her off the couch. "Not in the least bit you aren't."

"Okay, maybe I'm not. But you really did look funny."

Harmony peeped a small smile. "Maybe."

"You did! You were like this!" Angel mimed an exaggerated version of Harmony stranded on the couch. "HELP MEEE I'M BEACHED AS BRO GET ME UP!"

Harmony burst out laughing, unable to help herself. "You bitch!" she sniggered. "That was mean!"

"Wanna chip, bro?"

"Your face wants a chip!"

"As a matter of fact, yes, it does."

Harmony shook her head, still chuckling. "Whatever. No chips for you."

"Daww, I bet Ace would get me one."

"Good luck to him getting hot chips all the way back here. It would be covered in sand by the time he reached the range."

"Eugh, sandy chips, yuck."

"Exactly."

Harmony sighed, straightening up. She doubled over again. "Oof! You got Sprog in here laughing too, its kicking away for all its worth!"

Angel smirked. "It kicks a lot, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it hurts. Apparently that means its healthy if it's kicking away. Means it's not dead. Or too badly deformed."

There was a sombre silence between the two. Neither really wanted to think about what the baby might look like when it was born. So far everything had gone well, but nobody could really know what the baby would be like until it was born. They didn't even know what sex it was.

"It's like a rabbit," Angel suddenly said, wanted to change the tune of the conversation and break the silence. "A little hopping rabbit."

Harmony smiled. "So that's why it's kicking. I'm going to give birth to a little bunny rabbit."

"Huh, yeah. Hey, have you two thought up any names, yet?"

Harmony shook her head, auburn curls flying. "Not really. We're not great with names. I thought of naming it after one of our parents, but that's just too sad. And after what happened, it's probably not a good omen either. We need a new name. A new name for a new child for a new world."

Angel nodded. "What about Rabbit? Or Bunny Rabbit?"

Harmony raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's... different," she commented. "Certainly new. Huh. I guess we'll have to think about it."

"It's gender neutral too, so that's convenient."

"So it is." Harmony patted her belly. "What do you think of that, little fella? Bunny Rabbit? Do you like that, baby? Do you like being called Rabbit?"

She gasped and let out a small "Ooh!" as the baby kicked in response, before letting out a shrill giggle. "I think it likes it!" she chuckled. "Certainly a good sign. I'll have to talk to Midas, but I like Bunny Rabbit. It's cute, though I think we'll have to shorten it to 'Rabbit' if we have a son."

She smiled at Angel. "Thanks, Ange. I never would have thought of that."

Angel shrugged. "Hey, if it was fate, then you would have thought of it eventually."

Harmony smiled. "True. But still, thank you."

"No problem. Just your friendly neighbourhood child-namer."

Harmony laughed, before sashaying back into the kitchen. "You wanna call Midas back in? He should be finished with the car by now. He's probably just browbeating Ace into giving him a beer."

Angel ran outside. The air was sweet, if tinged slightly by the taste of acid and diesel. Sure enough, Midas was chatting with Acetone, who was laughing and shaking his head.

"Hey, Midas!" Angel called. "Harmony wants you back in."

"Hear that, Midas?" Acetone said jokingly. "Your woman wants you back. Time for you to stop hassling me for that damn beer already, I told ya I got none!"

"Aww, Ace, that belly says otherwise!" Midas pleaded. "C'mon, it can be you and me sitting out in the street, two men having a man's conversation with a couple of cold beers for company! Don't you see my vision?"

"I do, and I'm telling ya – we can sit out here under the stars having men's conversations all we like, and we don't need no beer to do it! So quit hounding me already!"

Midas sighed overdramatically and clutched a hand to his chest. "Ahh, Ace old buddy, you wound me," he cried. "But I won't give up just yet! I'll be back!"

"And I'll be ready with a nice bottle of vinegar to wet your whistle with," Ace said jokingly. "Get your whining ass back to Harmony!"

Midas laughed, throwing an arm around Angel as they walked back to the house. "He'll give in eventually," he said with a smirk. "Now, to check in on my ladies!"

The street was peaceful and happy in the cool evening air. The setting sun cast a perfect lavender-orange sunset over the street, giving the rusty huts an ethereal air. A group of children played in the gutter, cooing over the new toys and sweets Acetone had brought them. Several older people had brought gasoline cans out in front of their doors to have a gander before the sun went down.

All was peaceful, with a friendly, community air. Angel had never felt such a sense of closeness, such a love for a group of virtual strangers. These people were practically family.

As she and Midas entered the house to the warm glow of lit candles and Harmony's caesar salad that she somehow managed to make nice and filling despite their withered ingredients, Angel felt a strong need to remember this moment, to capture it in her memory so she could never forget it.

It was perfect. And she hoped it would stay perfect for as long as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Angel woke up to the sound of Donorcycle's loud chatty voice. She rolled off her mattress, dragging on some clothes and pulling an old hairbrush through her hair.

She walked out of her room into the living area, where Harmony and Donorcycle were talking.

Donorcycle wasn't a small woman. She was tall and Amazonian, an intimidating lady with pale skin and piercing grey eyes. Her short hair was a plain mousy brown, straight and lank.

Donorcycle was the closest thing they had to a doctor in The Sanctum. Occasionally med students would come in from Battery City to test their skills or "donate" their expertise in the manner of a Red Cross doctor. Donorcycle was not a med student. She'd been an army nurse back in the Fires, and as such had the hardened bedside manner of a war-scarred army doctor. She did not shy away from even the most horrific injuries, and wasn't fazed by even the goriest of situations. She treated her patients with a grim determination.

Despite her often less-than-sensitive bedside manner, she was a fantastic doctor and had a high success rate of bringing her patients back to full health. Her gruff exterior hid a big heart, and she was very close and personal with her patients, slapping them with the same stalwart love as any mother.

Donorcycle was the first port of call for any med students from Battery City, and currently she was training a flighty, skittish blonde girl called Kitty to be a midwife. Kitty did not have a strong stomach, and often fainted. But she shared Donorcycle's determination, and hadn't backed out at all during Harmony's pregnancy, sitting in at every house call that Donorcycle made, and learning voraciously from each stage of Harmony's pregnancy.

Kitty also had a much more compassionate bedside manner, soothing Harmony's fears with gentle words, restating Donorcycle's matter-of-fact diagnoses in an altogether more palatable fashion.

The two of them made a good pair, and Angel felt lucky that Harmony was being treated by them. She couldn't think of anyone else who could handle Harmony's pregnancy better than the two women.

Another aspect of Donorcycle's personality was that she was very talkative. She loved to chat while doling out medication, weighing patients, listening to heartbeats, and other processes. She was rarely quiet. You always heard Donorcycle long before you saw her.

As Angel walked into the living area, the three women looked up.

"Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty!" Donorcycle boomed. "You're just in time. I was just telling Harmony that, as far as can be gathered without an ultrasound, this baby couldn't be healthier. No defects that I can find, no diseases. If we're lucky, we might be in for another Coloured baby."

Donorcycle was, of course, talking about the new generation of children being born with brightly coloured hair and eyes, dark skin and special adaptations for desert life.

Donorcycle continued. "The baby's fully active, indicated by the kicking, which is always a good sign. And Harmony's showing all the typical signs of a mother carrying a healthy baby. She's also crabby as hell and moody as anything."

Kitty interjected before Harmony could open her mouth to blast Donorcycle. "What she means by that is that Harmony's hormonal levels are all at the appropriate stages for her pregnancy! Harmony's experiencing the typical mood swings and hormonal changes appropriate for her stage of pregnancy while her body prepares for the birth."

Kitty smiled nervously. "Donorcycle, please try not to upset the mother. We don't want a premature labour on our hands."

Donorcycle frowned. "I was perfectly civil!" she retorted.

"Now, as I was saying..." Donorcycle continued. "Angel, sit down. Now, do you two see how Harmony's stomach looks bigger all of a sudden in the past few weeks? Kind of sticking out a lot more? That's because the baby is slowly rotating into the position it needs to be in for the birth. Throughout the pregnancy, the baby is positioned upright, with the head just below the ribcage. But a few weeks or days before the birth, the baby rotates upside down so that its head rests in the pelvis. This is so that the baby is in the correct position for the birth once the labour starts. The fact that the baby is rotating is very good, as it means that we shouldn't need to perform a C-section. If the baby was still upright, we'd have to prepare for a C-section, because you can't give birth to a baby feet-first. Well, you could, but it usually results in the baby dying and the mother either dying as well or having terrible complications for the rest of her life."

Harmony made a squeaking sound. Kitty flapped her hands in front of Donorcycle's face in an effort to shut her up.

"Donorcycle! Now, Harmony, it's alright – Donorcycle's experienced in C-section births, and she's also teaching me to perform C-sections as well, so if we do experience complications, you'll be perfectly fine. But even so, it's evident that you shouldn't need a C-section. We should be able to carry out a natural birth without the need for surgical intervention. Alright?"

Harmony nodded, still pale. Donorcycle broke into a wide grin. "Excellent! Okay, we also have a new supply of medication for you. Kitty picked some up back in Battery City. This medication is designed to help you and your baby through this final stage, to prepare you two for the birth – you don't need the folate and vitamin supplements now. You been keeping up that diet I told you to follow?"

Harmony nodded. "But damn, meat is expensive," she complained. "I'm not made of resources. The bracelets I make aren't enough to pay for it. Midas had to take on more work just to make up the difference. Plus, I'm a vegetarian – I haven't eaten meat in years! Those first few months were awful."

"You want you and your baby to survive, you gotta get plenty of good fats and protein in your system," Donorcycle growled. "God dammit, Harmony. I'm not going to cater to your fucking hippy idealisms, I'm doing this for your baby, not you."

"Alright, alright," Harmony grumbled. "I told you, I'm eating the meat. I want this baby to survive too, believe it or not. I'm not an idiot. But I don't have to keep eating meat after the baby's born, do I?"

"You don't have to, but it'd be good for you to. Just to keep up your milk levels. I'll need to put you on a whole new diet for that."

"Which reminds me, you're going to have to teach me how to breastfeed."  
>"That's more Kitty's department. Now, for your birthing exercises.."<p>

Kitty and Donorcycle began instructing Harmony, Kitty acting as Harmony's birthing partner, rather like a one-on-one birthing class.

Angel smiled. "I'll go for a walk then, okay?" she asked, pulling on her boots and grabbing a jacket – it was going to be a fierce day.

At that moment, Midas walked out of the basement, ruffling Angel's hair. "Nuh-uh, kiddo. You're coming with me. I have a job today and I'm going to need some help, so you're coming with me down to Black Jack's. Dice found some kids in the desert, and they want us to take a couple of of them in."

"What with the baby and all, we're not going to have any room as it is!" Harmony exclaimed. "Stupid Dice."  
>"Hey girlie, watch your mouth. It's my gang you're slandering." Donorcycle frowned at Harmony. "And besides, you're living on our land free of charge, no rent or nothing. You gotta start earning your keep at some stage."<p>

"I know, I know," Harmony grumbled. "But still."

"We'll be back with these kids soon, okay?" Midas said. "I'll remind Black Jack about the baby, hopefully he can give us some decent kids that won't make trouble for us."

"Don't stay out too long!" Harmony said. "I need you to practise some of the exercises with me, Mr Big Daddy. You're going to be my partner in the birth, remember."

"I know," Midas said with a joyous grin. "Don't you worry, I've been practising."

Angel and Midas walked out of the house over to Midas's car – a big black Toyota 4WD ute parked in a small cave. It had a number of add ons, including dust screens on the windows, a Geiger counter in the dash, dust filters in the air conditioner, and Ed Hardy seat covers. It was Midas's pride and joy, his baby. Unfortunately, however, it tended to attract great colonies of spiders that lived in the ducts of the air conditioner.

Angel jumped into the tray of the ute, holding onto the winch attached to the cabin. Midas stared at her. "The dust is gonna rip you to pieces, you know!"  
>"I'll be fine," Angel said, holding up her bandanna and pulling a set of dust goggles over her eyes. "I came prepared."<p>

"Aw, c'mon. I checked the air-con ducts, I cleaned out all the spiders yesterday."

"They could quite as easily have crawled back in overnight."

"No they couldn't have, you're overreacting."  
>The last time Angel had been in the cabin of the ute, a huge huntsman spider had flown out of the air conditioner. Midas had almost crashed the car in their hasty attempt to kill the creature. Angel didn't mind insects, but even a non-phobic like her wasn't exactly going to relish having a spider the size of her hand launched at her face.<p>

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Nope."

"Fine, have fun in the back!"

"You bet I will!"

Midas shook his head and hopped into the cabin, starting the engine. With a rumble, the car reversed out of the little recess in the cliff, onto the road. And then they were off; rolling down the road, winding through streets and alleyways to the outskirts of the Sanctum, where Black Jack lived about an hour and a half away.

Black Jack was a major member of Dice and a key associate of Dice's leader, Russian Roulette. He dealt with new recruits and any lost refugees found wandering in the desert, usually Battery City escapees who didn't know where they were to go or what to do. He had been the person who took care of Angel and Harmony when they'd first arrived in The Sanctum, and he had eventually found them the house that they lived in now. He'd also been friends with Midas for years, and it was through Black Jack that Harmony had met the love of her life and the father of her unborn baby.

He was a big man, built like a tank. He was kind of like a black cat – you didn't dare cross his path, because, while he wasn't exactly unlucky, he could still ruin your day with an injury or two if you pissed him off.

He also played drums as a hobby.

He lived in an abandoned ranch, having converted the old stables into small rooms for whatever refugees came his way until he could relocate them in The Sanctum. Until he could introduce them into The Sanctum's community, he put the refugees to work on the ranch tending stolen GM crops and a small collection of emaciated cattle.

The ranch was still within the valley, just outside of The Sanctum, next to a creek that ran into the lake. It was an idyllic area, and the perfect environment for the GM crops that Black Jack had stolen from BL/ind. It didn't take long to get there.

The ute stopped outside the gates. A sunburnt man stood there, a refugee who'd obviously been put on guard duty. "Who goes there?" he called.

Midas rolled down the window. "Midas and Angel. I'm a close friend of Black Jack. Radio him, he'll tell you."

The man nervously pulled out the radio. "Black Jack, this is Eagle 1. Eagle 1 calling Black Jack, over."

The voice that came on the radio was staticky and barely audible. _"Eagle 1, this is Black Jack, over."_

Midas grabbed the radio. "Hey, Black Jack, Midas here. Mind telling your guard to let us in? Over."

_"Jimmy, let them in, I'm expecting them. Over and out."_

The sunburnt man, Jimmy, nodded and pulled open the gate. Midas rolled in, driving down the road until he came to a stop outside of the house.

Angel jumped out of the back as Midas climbed out of the cabin. The two walked up to the door, which swung open as they approached.

Black Jack lumbered outside, all six-feet-ten-inches of him. He opened his arms in greeting. Midas walked up and embraced him, thumping him on the back. One of those ridiculous man-hugs.

"Good to see ya, Midas, good to see ya. And Angel!" Black Jack swept Angel into a crushing hug. "The last time I saw you, you were a skinny little weed barely up to my waist. And look at you! You're all grown now. How old are ya, kid?"

"Seventeen."

"Look at that, she's practically a woman. You two come inside, now. I got a treat for ya."

They walked into the big house, Black Jack leading them into the kitchen. He picked up two bananas off the counter, throwing one at Midas and the other at Angel. Angel stared at the fruit in shock. Bananas? In the desert?

"Black Jack, you dog! Where on earth did you get these?" Midas exclaimed, poring over the banana's gleaming yellow skin.

Black Jack beamed. "We grew them!" he said.

"No way! Everyone knows that bananas don't grow in the desert."

"Well these ones do. And best of all, they've got seeds – these bananas can reproduce."  
>Typical bananas did not have seeds – banana trees had to be cloned in a laboratory to produce a plantation. And typical bananas didn't grow in deserts – the environment was too dry and caused the soft plants to wither.<p>

"They genetically modified regular bananas so that they can grow without much water, and so that they can be grown from seeds. Watch them, though, the seeds are bitter."  
>Angel by this stage had peeled her banana and had just taken a bite. Black Jack was right – the pulpy fruit contained little black seeds that tasted very bitter. But it was worth it for the sweet fruit. Angel had forgotten what bananas tasted like.<p>

"I'll start selling them in The Sanctum soon. That'll bring a lot of business!" Black Jack beamed. "Now, speaking of business..."

"Uh, BJ old buddy," Midas interjected. "Look, I know it's only fair that we take on a couple of kids, but keep in mind, I gotta baby on the way, we don't need any kid who's gonna make trouble for us."

"I know, I know," Black Jack said. "I'm well aware of Harmony's condition, I know she's in no state to be chasing after rowdy teenagers. So I handpicked these girls myself. They're great kids, very respectful and hardworking..."

Angel had stopped listening when Black Jack said "girls". Girls! Teenagers! Did that mean she would finally have some girls her age to hang out with? Her heart thumped inside her chest.

As he talked, Black Jack led them out of the kitchen into a sort of drawing room with a dusty old piano in it.

There were two girls in the room.

One of them, a small girl with purplish-black hair and pale skin, sat huddled on a couch with her head bowed. Her bony hands were clasped tightly around her knees.

The other one, a taller and older girl with a body in the process of becoming Amazonian, sat at the piano, tinkering curiously at the keys.

Angel stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the second girl.

She was Coloured.

Her skin was a dark Indian brown, covered with a light coat of fine downy hair. Her hair was a long wild mane of white, with various streaks of rainbow colours. She was slender and long-bodied, only just developing biceps.

She looked up. Her eyes were white with black pupils, but as her eyes darted around the room, Angel saw iridescent flashes of colour in her irises.

Her eyes were rimmed with heavy black lines. Angel had seen the eye-lines on other kids too. They completely outlined the eyes and were drawn into a point that ran along the sides of their noses, like cheetah eye-markings. Donorcycle had theorised that they acted like cheetah eye-markings too, preventing glare from the sun and making visibility easier.

But one thing marked her different from the other Coloured kids, aside from her age – she had bizarre markings on her face shaped like eyes.

There were six of them – one pair just above her eyebrows, and two pairs below her eyes, on her cheekbones. Giving her two real eyes, and six fake eyes – eight eyes in total. Were they tattoos? What did they mean?

The girl smiled.

"Midas, Angel, meet Phobia and Poison," Black Jack announced. "Poison over there may look pretty small and weedy, but she's a fiesty kid in reality, and she'll happily perform any task you give her, no matter how difficult. She's a determined one, she is."  
>Poison looked up and flashed Midas and Angel a smile. She had sharp bright green eyes and a pointed face with full, cupid's bow lips. She was pretty in a petite, exotic way.<p>

"And over here at the piano is our resident runaway Phobia. We think she may have been captured and experimented on by BL/ind because of her tattoo." Obligingly, Phobia pulled up her sleeve to show a barcode tattoo on her shoulder, with "BL/ind property" and the BL/ind smiley face logo below it.

"However, she has amnesia, so nobody really knows where she came from. But she and Poison hit it off pretty well from the start, so I thought it would be best to keep them together."  
>Black Jack looked pleadingly at Midas. "They're good girls," he said. "They work hard, and they won't cause you any trouble. Phobia in particular is really great at handling blood and injuries – she has no fear of gore, and she's a natural at first aid. She could be useful for the birth if you can get Donorcycle to show her the ropes of basic obstetrics."<p>

He waved a hand at Poison. "And like I said, Poison will perform any task you give her. She's a fast learner and works hard."

He looked pointedly at Angel. "And they're about your age, kiddo. Poison's sixteen, and we reckon that Phobia's about eighteen or nineteen. They'd be good for companionship as well."

Midas frowned in thought. "Hmm," he said. "Well, we won't know until we know them a little better. Can we stay for a couple hours? You and me can pop a couple beers, and Angel here can scout these two out for me. I trust her judgement." Midas winked at Angel.

Jack Black. "Midas, really? You think I would have beer on me?"

"I know you do! You have a whole deal going with the Battery Buccaneers. You give them fresh food, they give you whatever pirated goods they can steal out of Battery City that you want. And I know you always loved your beer!"

Black Jack shook his head. "I think you're starting to know me a little too well, old friend. Ah well, a couple of beers on the porch it is then, while we let these girls get to know each other."

The two men walked out of the room, Midas throwing Angel an encouraging grin just before they closed the door.

And then Angel was alone with the two girls.

"Um," she said.

Poison gave her an encouraging smile. "Angel, huh?" she said. "That's a pretty name. Original name, or taken name?"

"Taken," Angel said. "My sister always used to call me it when I was little, so I took it when we ran away. You?"

"Taken, of course. What parent would call their child Poison?" Poison laughed. "I got it from a book called Poison. It was about a girl who called herself Poison and she went on all these crazy adventures. I kind of identified with the character. So when I ran away, I took the name."  
>Phobia smiled. "Poison gave me my name," she said. "Before that I was nameless."<p>

"She was all scared and jumpy when she first came," Poison explained. "Terrified of everything. Panophobic, I think it's called when you're afraid of everything. So we called her Panaphobic, then eventually shortened it to Phobia. So it just stuck from then on."

"So," Angel said. "You two have been here a while, huh?"

"Yeah," Poison said. "I've been here about six months."

"I've been here for about three," Phobia added. "How long have you been in The Sanctum?"

"Well I was here with my sister for about a year," Angel said. "Then she met Midas, and Black Jack found us a place that we all fitted in. We've lived out in the desert for a total of about seven years now."

"So you've been out here a while," Poison said, her voice full of awe. "I've only been in the desert for about two years. I was working in a colony before I ran off and found this place."

"You get used to it pretty quick," Angel said. "So... do you guys like walking?"

Poison gave her a confused smile. "Well... yeah. I guess. Why?"

"There's this amazing view from the plateau – you know, the one where you go out onto when you leave the mountain ranges? In the evening the view is spectacular. I like walking out there a lot, but it's lonely sometimes."

"That sounds wonderful," Phobia said, her eyes bright. "I love sunsets. We'll have to go with you."

Angel began to smile. She was beginning to like these girls more and more.

It seemed her wish for friends was finally being granted – and not only was she getting just one friend like she wished for, but two!

She was still burningly curious about Phobia though. How could she be Coloured if she was born long before the Fires started? Before the nuclear warheads began falling? How was it possible? And what about the markings on her face? Did she get tattoos, or was she born with them?

However, she had the feeling that Phobia wouldn't know either. If she was amnesiac, then there was no way she could know.

Poison was beaming happily. "I'm so glad we're all getting along so well!"

"Me too," Angel said. "I've been wanting a friend or two to hang out with for ages now. There's not many kids our age around The Sanctum, mainly just little kids – the generation of kids born out here, you know?"

"Yeah," Poison said. "I guess not that many kids our age would go running off into the desert like idiots."  
>"So," Angel said, "is there anything I should know about you two now? Like... I dunno, allergies, likes, dislikes?"<br>Poison smirked. "I don't eat chilli," she said. "I'm not allergic, but I hate it so much that it makes me sick nonetheless. Also I'm not great with too much sun or heat. I'll endure it if I have to, but I'm a little more likely to get sunstroke than other people. Hence the paleness."

"I'll eat anything that isn't processed," Phobia said. "Nobody knows why, but canned or preserved food makes me violently ill. I can eat meat and vegetables and fresh stuff, but something in preserved food doesn't agree with me at all."

"That's okay," Angel said. "Harmony – my sister – she's a real hippy, she doesn't like processed food either. She has a little vegetable garden, she tries to make fresh food as much as possible. Oh, and she hates chilli too, Poison. Besides, who eats hot food in the desert anyway?"

Poison grinned. "My sentiments exactly!"

"Also," Poison added, "Phobia can't handle bright colours too well. Which is usually okay, but some people like to go overboard on really bright coloured clothes and stuff, and that gives Phobia headaches."  
>Phobia nodded. "Again, nobody knows why that is," she said. "Black Jack thinks it might have something to do with my treatment at BLind. Maybe they tried to train me to hate colour or something."

"Man, you're a really weird girl, you know that?" Angel said exasperatedly. Phobia and Poison laughed.

"Yeah, I'm a weird one, I know," Phobia said, sticking out her tongue at Angel. "But I try. I try."  
>"You wanna know what else is weird?" Poison said. She grabbed Angel's hand and laid it over Phobia's forehead. To Angel's shock, Phobia's skin was cool to the touch.<p>

"Jesus, you're just like the Coloured kids," Angel blurted out. She'd never touched a Coloured kid, but once Harmony had babysat for a couple who'd had two Coloured kids. She'd come home raving about how when she kissed them goodnight, they were cold as cadavers and she'd freaked, thinking they were sick, but the parents had reassured her that they were always cold like that.

However, Poison and Phobia looked at Angel in confusion.  
>"What?" Poison said. "You know 'coloured' is kind of a racist description, right?"<p>

"Sorry, sorry," Angel said. "But I don't mean coloured in that way. Um.. you two haven't seen any of the desert-born kids yet, have you?"

The two girls shook their heads.

"I didn't think so," Angel said. "Look... when you get to The Sanctum, you'll see a lot of kids – all of them no older than the age of seven – who look, well, different."  
>She looked at Phobia. "The only kids who survived childbirth out here are kind of like a new breed. We call them 'Coloured' because they have really crazy coloured eyes and hair. Like, not brown or black or blonde, but yellow and green and pink. Or multiple colours. They also have dark, cool skin like yours, and they're all thin and slender. They also have markings outlining their eyes like yours, like cheetah markings. And other adaptations, like sharper teeth and stuff. They're basically adapted to survive in the desert better than we can. And they're all just like you."<p>

Phobia's pale eyes were wide. "Kids like me?" she echoed. "They all... look like me?"

"Younger, of course, and the hair and eye colour varies. But basically, yeah."

Phobia stared at the wall. "Kids like me," she murmured. "Interesting."

"But they were all born after the Fires," Angel said. "In the desert. Maybe the radiation mutated our genes, I dunno. But.. you're even older than I am."

She stared at Phobia. "How could you be Coloured if you were born before the Fires were even a possibility?"

Phobia looked confused, scared. "I don't know," she said. "I just don't remember. God, I wish I could remember, but I just don't." She looked up at Angel. "Do they... do they have tattoos like me?"

Angel shook her head. "The eye tattoos? No. The eye markings are the only extra markings they have."

Phobia looked down again. "So I'm still different," she murmured.

Poison looked worried. "It's okay," she interjected. "We don't have to worry about that stuff, okay? Let's just think about, you know, more immediate stuff." She cracked a smile. "Besides, isn't it exciting that there are kids like you? You're not gonna be 'weird' anymore!"

"Not quite," Phobia said, but she said it with a tiny smile on her lips.

There was a knocking on the door. "Hey, Angel!" Midas called, before opening the door to look in on the girls. "Black Jack and I finished our beers. You girls come to a decision yet?"

Angel smiled. "They're _definitely_ coming with us," she said.


	3. Chapter 3

Outside, Angel hopped in the tray of the ute again. Poison and Phobia looked at her, puzzled, not sure whether to follow her or leave her for the safety of the cabin.

"Spiders like to live in the air conditioner," Angel explained. Poison laughed. "Well, in that case, I'm joining you!" she said, hauling herself into the back. "I'm terrified of spiders."

Phobia smiled. "I don't mind spiders," she said. "And unlike you two, I'm not that fond of getting dusted out. Have fun with the sand, guys."

"At last, someone who sees sense!" Midas said, swinging himself into the driver's seat. "You and I can be the sensible people staying cool and comfortable in the front, Phobes. We'll leave these idiots to the mercy of the wind and sand!"

"Whatever, you two have fun with the spiders!" Angel called, laughing.

Phobia got into the cabin of the truck, and the ute rolled away from the house. Angel and Poison waved at Black Jack, who stood outside waving enthusiastically. "You kids stay safe now!" he called, his voice getting fainter as the ute rolled further and further away. "Take care, girls!"

The ute rumbled past the gate, Poison waving at the sunburnt man, yelling "Take care, Jimmy!", and then they were off, the ute picking up speed as the ranch grew smaller in the distance.

Eventually, they couldn't see it anymore, the farm lost in a cloud of dust and sand.

Angel pulled her goggles over her eyes, and looked around the valley. She'd just gained two new friends, her first after her long solitary seven years in the desert. She hadn't had proper friends for so long, she'd forgotten how good it felt to be able to just chat about whatever.

Of course, she and Poison couldn't do much chatting in the back of the ute, for fear of inhaling lungfuls of dust and sand in the process. But Angel still felt amazing. She looked over and caught Poison's eyes occasionally; the two would smile at each other and then look back out over the valley.

After about an hour, the ute swerved erratically, then suddenly screeched to a violent stop. Poison and Angel were nearly thrown out of the tray. With the engine killed, Angel could hear Midas yelling in the cabin.

The driver's door was thrown open and Midas tumbled out, yelling and cussing. "Holy fucking _shit!_" he screeched, gasping for breath and wheezing in fear. "Shit shit shit!"

"Midas, what's going on?" Angel said, jumping out of the back. "You two okay?"

"Spider!" Midas yelped. "Big fucking spider. But that's not it, that's not it at all, spiders are okay – fuck, Angel, you've picked up some fucking weird friends holy shit –"

"Midas, what are you talking about?" Angel said, turning to the cab. Her jaw dropped.

Phobia was sitting calmly in the passenger seat. She blinked slowly. In her hands, held up close to her face, was a massive tarantula – a huge hairy beast. Angel didn't even know they lived in the desert – new desert-adapted species, maybe? It sure wasn't like any tarantula she'd ever seen.

Phobia was staring deep into the monster's eyes. She looked perfectly at peace.

"P-Poison?" Angel mumbled. "Does... does Phobia do that a lot?"

Poison jumped out of the tray after Angel, peering into the cabin. Angel heard her take a sharp breath.

"I knew she liked spiders," Poison murmured. "She's great with them, and she doesn't like people killing them. And they never bite her. But that, I've never seen her do that before."  
>Angel stared at the girl sitting in the passenger cabin, staring calmly at the monster of a spider.<p>

She turned to Midas, who was still crouched on the ground, but appeared to have calmed down somewhat. "Midas, what happened?" she asked.

Midas took a deep, shuddering breath. "It was stuck in the air con," he said. "Too big to get out of the vents. I told Phobia to just ignore it, and we'd deal with it when we got back. But she got all weird... she got agitated and said it was cruel to leave it there. I told her that if she was that bothered, she could turn the air con off and we'd open the windows. But then she pulled the grate off the air con and it flew out. And she _caught_ it."

He shook his head. "I swerved the car, I yelled at her to drop it, to get away from it. I stopped the car and I asked if she was okay, if she was bitten. She didn't say anything. She was still holding it."

He gulped. "And she's still holding it now!"

"I can hear you, you know," Phobia said softly. Midas went quiet, as did Angel and Poison.

"It's okay," Phobia said. "She's not gonna bite me. She might have bitten one of you guys, but I asked her not to. She's pretty angry. I'm just gonna wait for her to cool off, then I'll let her go. I told the other spiders to leave the vents, too, so I'd keep clear of the vent."

Angel looked at the air con vent, a vertical pipe next to the cabin. Sure enough, small spiders were crawling out of it, racing to evacuate the air con vents.

"How did you talk to them?" Angel asked.

Phobia shrugged, her eyes still locked on the spider. "I dunno. I just do. They like me. They like my eyes, I think."

Midas shook his head. "Well, now I'm officially weirded out," he announced.

As they waited for Phobia to finish with the spider, Midas looked nervously at Angel and Poison. "So nobody knows anything about this girl?" he asked. "Nothing at all?"

"No," Poison said. "She has no memory preceding her escape from BL/ind. Her first memory is of running out of the city."

Midas looked thoughtful. "No memory," he said quietly. "So.. she's Coloured, she has crazy facial tattoos, and she can talk to spiders."

He twisted his mouth. "I think we need to take her to see the Red Mob," he said. Angel's eyes went wide. The Red Mob? Of all people?

Poison blinked. "Who's that?" she asked.

"They're kind of a religious sect," Midas explained. "They're a group who live way out in the desert. They're spider worshippers. They believe some spider deity called Destroya is one day going to be reborn into the human race to lead humanity to their salvation. To destroy those who would disturb the balance of the world, or something. I'm not sure how it all works. But basically, Destroya is this giant spider god that apparently caused the Fires, and is going to lead the survivors to salvation. The Red Mob are waiting for Destroya, and they hope to be saved. They all wear red, it's kind of weird. They're like monks, really. But they get by thanks to the fact that they run a massive ammo plant that supplies a lot of fighting gangs. Those gangs tend to carry the insignia of the Red Mob. They don't have to be believers in the religion, but they do have to buy the ammo and protect the Red Mob to wear the insignia. You guys ever heard of the Fabulous Killjoys?"

Poison shook her head.

"They're these assholes who run around making trouble for BL/ind. They're one of the reasons why BL/ind hate us so much, why they're trying to get rid of zonerunners. The Killjoys blow up their resources and kill their Dracs, they're worse than bandits. They try to be all like Robin Hood – you know, steal from the rich, give to the poor. But all they seem to achieve is to piss off BL/ind. And all that does for us is make life difficult – we have to hide, we have to avoid Dracs, and Dracs hunt us down."

Midas continued. "Anyway, the Killjoys are a major affiliate of the Red Mob. I don't know if they follow the religion, but they're pretty close buddies with them. As much as I hate them, the Killjoys are probably the best guys to talk to if you want to see the Red Mob. Their location is top-secret, you'd never find it, and the Killjoys are one of the only groups of people who know where they live, so to find the Red Mob, we need to find the Killjoys."  
>"They're kind of like local celebrities, huh?" Poison asked.<p>

Midas snorted. "Yeah, kinda. Some people treat them like celebrities. The idiots that think they're actually helping somehow. But really, they're not. They're just making life more difficult than it has to be."

At last, Phobia looked away from the spider, looking up at Midas. "Someone wanna get the door for me?" she asked. "I'm gonna put her down, now."

Midas nodded and walked around the cabin, opening the door for Phobia. She carefully stepped out, walking over to a withered shrub. She crouched beside it and gently coaxed the tarantula onto a branch, before standing up and jogging back to the ute.

"Sorry about that," she said apologetically. "But I didn't want her getting into more trouble. If I just left her, she'd just run around looking for a human to bite, and then she'd just get herself killed. Now she should stay put, and she won't bite anyone again."

She looked at Poison and Angel. "The cabin's safe, now," she said. "All the spiders are gone."

She looked at Midas. "You talk to me before you use the car again," she said. "Those spiders were pretty banged about. Let me see if there are any spiders before you drive, so I can get them out before they get stuck in the vents again. Then you don't have to worry about them flying out of the air con."

She sighed and hopped into the cabin. "We all good to go?"

Midas, flabbergasted, hopped into the driver's seat. "Um. I guess." He turned on the ignition.

Poison and Angel clambered into the back seat of the cabin, both stunned by Phobia's behaviour. Angel began to wonder for the first time if bringing the pair home had been a good idea. Maybe she'd been a bit too hasty. Poison was fine, but Phobia... she was nice enough, but Angel had the bad feeling that the strange girl was going to make life altogether more crazy.

And Midas's plan to bring her to the Red Mob! That could only mean trouble. Angel knew that for Midas to make a decision like that mean that he'd seen something truly worrying in the girl's behaviour.

The ride back to The Sanctum was quiet. Phobia was back to normal, but Midas, Angel and Poison were still stunned, shocked by what they'd seen. Midas was no longer joking and laughing, but had now taken on an air of grim determination.

Angel began to calm down once they entered The Sanctum, looking around the familiar slums and roadside sellers with relief. In the midday, the markets were gone – food would spoil in the hot sun. Now, people walked along the road beside the cars, knocking on windows and car doors, hoping to find someone to sell their wares to.

These people, known as roadrunners, were the truly desperate, braving the the sun and the big cars and trucks and risking their lives to try and earn something tradeable for food. Angel felt a little sorry for them, but ignored the knocking on the windows – they had nothing to trade.

She was a roadrunner herself once, when she and Harmony had first moved into The Sanctum. Harmony had worked selling handmade bracelets and jewellery made out of bits of string and beads and coloured pebbles and other treasures found in the sand, and Angel had walked along the side of the road trying to sell them. She'd managed to sell them for a few tradeable items, but it had been difficult work, and she'd often suffered heatstroke and terrible sunburn in the process. She'd never been hit, but she'd nearly had an accident several times on the road.

She looked out at the roadrunners and felt grateful for the fact that she didn't have to roadrun anymore.

Eventually, they reached the hut, and Midas pulled the car into the cave/garage. Phobia hopped out first, followed by Poison and Angel.

"Well, here we are," Midas announced. "Home sweet home!" He began to head to Ace's place. "Angel, you get the girls settled in, I just need to talk to Ace for a second."

Angel led the girls over to the house, knocking on the door. "Harmony, we're home," she called, well aware that Harmony might be in the middle of some embarrassing yoga move set for her to practice by Donorcycle and Kitty. She'd walked into one of those once before. Never again.

Sure enough, Angel heard a grunt, an "Oof!" as Harmony twisted herself back into a normal position, and an exhausted-sounding "Come in!".

Angel opened the door, leading the girls into the house. She caught sight of Harmony, sitting on her bottom in the middle of the floor.

"Hey, Angel," Harmony said. "I see you brought the kids Black Jack sent us?"

"Hey, Harmony," Angel said. "Poison, Phobia, meet my sister, Harmony. Harmony, meet Poison and Phobia."

Harmony grunted, motioning for Angel to help her up. Angel ran over and hauled Harmony to her feet. Harmony walked over to the girls.  
>"My name's Harmony, as my sister just mentioned," she said with a sunny beam. "Now, you two make yourselves at home, and I'll just see if there's anything for you to eat. Welcome to our home, humble as it is!"<p>

"Thank you, Harmony," Poison said. "We appreciate you taking us in at short notice, especially with.. your baby coming, and all."

"Oh, this little sprog?" Harmony patted her belly. "It's nothing, nothing at all. Our pleasure. Besides, you've arrived just in time, Gaia knows I'll need babysitters!" She winked at the three girls. "Now you run up to Angel's room and she can get you settled in. I'll call you down once I've got something for you lot to eat."

Angel led the girls to her bedroom. It was a small room with a little window and a crevice in the wall which held a few candles. A pile of clothes sat on the floor, separated into "clean", and "dirty" - Angel didn't have a wardrobe or cupboard, so most of her belongings just sat on the floor or in crevices she'd hollowed out of softer veins in the rock wall.

She just had a clock (batteries provided by Acetone), a couple of books, a few gifts and toys from Acetone, some bracelets and anklets left over from Harmony's jewellery business, and a string of feathers garlanded around the room for decoration. There was a little table where she placed another candle and a few other things. Her spear leant against a corner of the wall.

"Cool place," Poison said. Phobia nodded in agreement. "What's the spear for?" she asked.

"Protection," Angel explained. "I'm not allowed a gun, Harmony doesn't like them. And I need something to protect myself when I'm on my own in the desert, in case of bandits or Dracs."

She stared at the mattress on the floor; it wasn't going to be big enough for the three of them.

"Um," she said. "You two set down your stuff, I'll go see if I can find a mattress for you guys."

"You sure?" Phobia asked. "I don't mind the floor."

"Don't be silly, you guys need something to sleep on," Angel said with a smile. "I'll be right back."  
>She ran back into the kitchen. "Hey, Harmony, what are the girls meant to sleep on?" she asked.<p>

Harmony turned, a pensive look on her face. "Hmm. I know I asked Ace to drop a mattress off just outside the door," she said. "Check outside, maybe he hasn't dropped it off yet."

Angel poked her head through the door. Sure enough, a mattress just big enough for two girls leaned against the wall of the house. "Thanks Harmony!" she called, before dragging it into the house.

She pulled it into her room, dumping it onto a bare space next to her bed. "There we go!" she announced, looking up at Phobia and Poison. They beamed simultaneously. "Thanks, Angel," Poison said. "This means a lot to us."  
>"Yeah, we forgot to thank you for taking us in earlier," Phobia said sheepishly.<p>

"No problem," Angel said. "You're no trouble."

She looked around the room. Poison and Phobia had put their bags down near Angel's clothes.

"Sorry there's nowhere you can put your stuff," Angel said apologetically. "Furniture's pretty difficult to get out here."

"No problem!" Poison said. "We can live out of our bags, it's fine." She smiled at Angel. "It's just nice to have a home, really."

"So, do we get a tour?" Phobia said hopefully. Angel laughed. "Sure," she said. "Come with me."

She led the girls through the small house, showing them the basement, the kitchen and the living area. Harmony accosted them in the kitchen, giving them each a snack of nuts and dried fruits. Angel led the girls outside, showing them the street where they lived.

"That's where Lewis and Carol live with their kids Alice and Dinah," she said, pointing to the houses. "The girls there are Coloured, they're pretty young. Harmony used to babysit them. And over there is Blondie, she lives with her brother Archie and his girlfriend, Sabrina. Esau and Judas live over there, they work with Midas a lot. Moses lives over there with Jacob, they're both really nice. And over here is Acetone," Angel pointed out Acetone's house. "He's actually got a job up in Battery City, so he goes there a lot. He brings a lot of stuff back from there – he's got his own generator, a refrigerator and other stuff. He's set up his basement for Harmony to give birth there. He likes to bring back treats for the little kids. He's really great."

As if on cue, the door to Acetone's house swung open, and Acetone himself swept out, closely followed by Midas. "Hey, girls!" Midas crowed. "Look, Angel! Look who scored a beer for being such a great guy!"

Acetone smirked. "Yeah, yeah, don't get too excited," he said. "Enjoy it, 'cause that's your last one from me for a while."

"Aww, Ace, you're such a buzzkill."

"What did you do?" Angel asked Midas. Midas beamed. "I fixed his generator," he said. "Stupid bugger was putting diesel in there instead of petrol."

"Hey, language! And besides, petrol's getting expensive, and the label said that it takes any fuel," Acetone grumbled. "Stupid BL/ind products. Clearly nobody in Battery City does much camping, otherwise the damned thing might actually work properly."

He turned to Angel. "Anyway, forgive my rudeness – hello, Angel! And how's my girl?"

"Pretty good," Angel replied. "Ace, let me introduce Phobia and Poison. Phobia, Poison, meet Ace."

Acetone's eyes lingered bewilderedly over Phobia for a moment, before he broke out into a wide grin. "Well, hello girls!" he said, ushering them into the house. "It's great to see Angel hanging out with kids her age at last. Do you both drink Coke?"

Poison nodded eagerly, while Phobia stared at Acetone in confusion. "Coke?" she said.

Acetone gaped at her. "You don't know what Coke is?" he asked.

"She's an amnesiac," Angel explained. "She hasn't got any memory of before living in the desert."

"Interesting," Acetone said quietly. "Well, no matter! Perfect opportunity to introduce the stuff to you!"

Acetone turned to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle. "Now, I wasn't expecting visitors, so you'll all have to share," he said apologetically. "But next time I'm in the city, I'll bring back plenty for you girls."

"Thanks, Ace," Angel said, twisting open the lid. Poison was beaming. "Thank you so much!" she gushed. "I haven't had a Coke for a couple years!"

"Two years?" Ace exclaimed. "Well, that must be rectified immediately!"

Poison took a long sip from the bottle, sighing happily. She passed the bottle on to Angel, who also took a hearty gulp. Then she passed the bottle to Phobia, who stared into the black bubbly sugary drink curiously.

"Just take a sip and see what you think," Poison said.

Phobia pressed the bottle to her lips, her eyes suddenly wide. She gulped some down before putting the bottle down.

"Um," she said. "It's... fizzy."

Angel and Poison laughed. "Of course it's fizzy, it's soft drink," Angel giggled. "What did you think?"

Phobia wrinkled her nose before smiling. "I'll think I'll leave the rest to you two," she said. "I'm not sure I like it much."

"I'd better find something for you, then," Acetone said, rummaging through the fridge. "You ever tried lemonade?"

"No."

Acetone held up a bottle of lemonade. "I like to keep it for Donorcycle, she gets dehydration sufferers sometimes, and the lemonade helps rehydrate sick people."

"Donorcycle?" Poison asked.  
>"She's sort of a doctor around here," Angel explained. "She's been Harmony's obstetrician during her pregnancy, and she's gonna be her midwife as well during the birth."<p>

"Tell me what you think of that," Acetone said, handing Phobia the bottle of lemonade. Phobia opened the bottle and took a sip. She smiled. "I like this much better," she said. "This stuff is nice."

Acetone chuckled. "I'll remember to bring some for you, then, next time I'm in the city," he said.

When Poison and Angel finished their Coke, they and Phobia left Midas (who went home to practice birthing exercises with Harmony) and Angel took them to their next destination – the plateau.

The walk to the plateau took about an hour and a half if you were hasty. With the two girls in tow, Angel found that it took them about two hours. She wasn't worried, though, even if it meant that they probably wouldn't get back until after dark. A group of three would be much safer than herself on her own. Nonetheless, she was glad she'd brought her spear just in case.

"Man, this is a long walk," Poison complained as they crossed the ranges. "Do you do this every single day?"

"Pretty much," Angel said. "Keeps me fit, so I'm not complaining."  
>"I can tell," Poison panted. "Even after the ranch, I'm not used to this kind of walking."<p>

"Well, we're nearly there," Angel said, grinning. "You two are going to love this."

They emerged from behind a hill, and were suddenly hit with the warm light of a spectacular sunset. The plateau stretched for about fifteen metres, and then dropped away to reveal the wide expanse of desert stretched out before them. Kilometres away on the ground, Angel could see a bush of tumbleweed rolling away in the distance.

The sky seemed to have put on a particularly wonderful light show for them, as if welcoming the new arrivals. Soft purples and mauves set the backdrop for a bank of bright pink and orange clouds. The clouds seemed to gently embrace the slowly sinking crimson sun in the distance, as if hugging it goodnight like a mother tucking her child into bed. The sand of the desert was stained orange and lavender by the light, and miles away near the coast the twinkling lights of the huge Battery City was just visible. The sight was so cheerful that you almost forgot what a dull, depressing place it was to live in.

And of course, further away, almost beyond their view, they could see the start of the huge sandy dunes that protected the lapis lazuli blue ocean from view.

Angel looked back and saw Poison and Phobia both gazing into the distance in awe, entranced.

"It's beautiful," Phobia murmured.

"Just a shame you couldn't build a house here," Poison sighed. "This view is iamazing/i."

"So worth the walk," Phobia agreed.

Angel grinned. She walked over to the edge of the plateau and sat down, swinging her legs over the edge of the cliff. She heard Phobia and Poison walking over.

"Doesn't that scare you?" Poison asked.

"It used to," Angel said. "I got over it though."

Phobia cautiously sat down and gingerly lowered her legs over the edge. She giggled nervously. "It's kinda scary, but cool," she said, turning to Poison. "Come on, you won't fall over – the plateau's kind of on an upwards slant before the drop, you know?"

Poison crept over and sat down next to Phobia. Soon, she too was cautiously swinging her legs over the edge.

"This is amazing, Angel," she said, clinging onto Phobia's arm. "How on earth did you find this place?"

"I got lost one time," Angel said. "I was trying to find Black Jack's place and went in completely the wrong direction. So worth it, though. I've been coming here ever since."

Angel giggled. "And nearly causing Harmony to go into premature labour in the process."

Poison giggled as well. "Oh Angel, that's mean."

"I know, but it's still funny."

"How's her pregnancy going?"

Angel shrugged. "As well as it could go, I guess," she said. "There's nothing wrong as far as Donorcycle can tell. And Harmony's been following all the rules – staying out of any high-radiation areas, keeping indoors in storms, sleeping in the coolest area in the house. She even started eating meat again to keep her baby healthy – considering she's a vegetarian, that's saying something. Donorcycle put her on all these vitamin pills and stuff as well, so she wasn't lacking any nutrients." Angel shrugged. "As far as anyone can tell, the baby is in perfect health. But we won't know for sure until the baby's born."

"When's the due date?" Phobia asked.

"Anytime in the next two weeks," Angel said. "Hell, Harmony could give birth right now. The baby's moved into the right position, so it won't be a problem. Now, it's just a bit of a waiting game to see how it all pans out."

"Do you think it might be Coloured?" Phobia asked, her eyes bright. Angel looked at her, and suddenly felt sad.

Phobia had no family that she knew of, no memory, no life previous to her escape. She couldn't even wonder where she came from, because she was so abnormal, impossible. She was Coloured despite being older than Angel. She had no history.

She couldn't even really relate to the friends she'd made in the desert – they were so different from her. Normal humans with pasts, lives, histories. She had no past, no history. They had a reason for being in the desert – she didn't know why she was there.

No doubt the Coloured kids were a ray of hope for her – a sign that she wasn't all alone in this harsh world by herself. There were people that she could relate to, people she'd never known existed. Their histories, their reasons for being what they were helped give _her_ a reason.

Angel smiled at her. "Well, by all accounts its as healthy as can be," she said. "Like I said before, there doesn't seem to be any problems. So its very likely to be Coloured."

Phobia smiled. The orange sun glinted off her strange eyes, her catlike pupils narrowing in the glare.

"I hope so," she murmured.

The three girls sat in silence, staring out over the desert. In that moment, everything was perfect. Angel felt on top of the world. In her situation, nothing could possibly be better. Everything was exactly as it should have been.

She felt sure that these two strange girls were supposed to be with her. It felt like fate. Everything seemed to have aligned.

She smiled. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.


	4. Chapter 4

"Alright, Dracs! Move your lazy asses and get out there, if we want to be out near Zone 6 by midday, we should be off by now!"

Stuart tried to block out the obnoxious sound of the Scarecrow's yelling. Of all Scarecrows who could have been in charge of his squad, it had to be Zap, didn't it?

When Stuart had first been sent to the elite academy for BL/ind agents in training – or 'Drac school' as it was often called – Zap had been his trainer. Stuart had spent five miserable years training under the insensitive, uncaring, rude and ill-tempered brute, and when he'd graduated he'd rejoiced, thinking he'd never have to listen to Zap's griping and bitching again.

Not so. When he was posted to Squad 15, Stuart had discovered to his horror that his old trainer was now his new senior in command – the Scarecrow.

Why couldn't he have gotten someone cooler, like Korse? Or that new Scarecrow that everyone was talking about, the Doublecross chick? Apparently she was smoking hot, too.

Zap was far from smoking hot. The closest he got to smoking hot was when he was about to blow his top off at some unfortunate Drac over something stupid like not putting his high-beams on in an acid storm. Those times, you could practically see the smoke pouring out of the overweight, ugly man's cabbage-like ears. Smoking, but in the worst kind of way!

Zap was a smoker, too. Stuart hated getting close to the man, who constantly reeked of bitter cigar smoke and occasionally weed. Stuart didn't even think a weed smoker could be a Scarecrow, but there Zap was.

BL/ind funding must have gotten low if they were resorting to potheads for Scarecrows.

Stuart sighed and swung his leg over the white standard Drac-issue motorbike. No use grouching about Zap now. He had a job to do. And not a particularly exciting one.

He and his squad were on routine surveillance.

Again.

When Stuart had signed up for Drac school, he'd dreamed of smoking firefights with renegades and bandits. Laser duels with zonerunner idealists, handcuffing hot desert chicks.

However, he hadn't even seen a bandit yet. Since he'd started, he'd been put on basic tasks, like reconnaissance, surveillance, checking traps and surveillance cameras, routine repairs on data collectors, and zone cleanup.

Life had not been exciting or glamorous since he'd started working. Nope, life had been extremely dull.

He kicked the bike into gear, revving up and following his fellow Dracs out over the desert for the long ride to Zone 6. They were hoping to reach the plateau, the border between Zone 5 and Zone 6. The plateau had never been properly explored due to the difficulty in reaching it and the long time it took to get to the plateau – you didn't want to be still out riding back to Battery City when the sun went down. It was too dangerous.

But Stuart secretly _wanted_ danger. He was sick of safety. That was the whole reason why he'd become a Drac – to leave the sterile padded-wall security of Battery City. He was sick of being wrapped in cotton wool, blanketed in a safe, mundane world where nothing exciting ever happened. It may have been okay for his family, for the other drones who lived in the city taking their daily medication and leading boring lives, but it was not okay for Stuart.

At first, being a Drac sounded perfect. Exciting escapades in the desert, fresh air and physical exercise; and it was all for the greater good. It was all for the good of the city, to keep its denizens safe and to assure that justice was carried out even in the barbarity of the desert.

Plus, he was getting paid damn good wages for all of it.

But it seemed that the one part that had really hooked Stuart, the "exciting escapades" part, was yet to occur. Much to Stuart's dismay.

He sighed, readjusting his mask and goggles. Perhaps today was the day. If there was one thing that kept him going, kept him going out on these tedious jobs and chores, it was hope.

Hope that each coming day might bring true adventure. Hope that fate would smile him and give him what he'd been longing for since his life in Battery City had begun – true fear, true excitement, the thrill of the chase.

He wondered if the other guys on his squad were the same. He didn't know them that well; they rarely had time to talk. He'd got the impression that most of them were doing it mainly for the money.

His friends back in Drac school had been doing it either for their families or money as well. Some more disturbing individuals he'd met were doing it for darker purposes. The opportunity to kill, maim, torture.

Disconcertingly, they usually tended to be the favourites in his classes, for their ruthlessness and Machiavellian attitudes - _the means justifies the end_. Even if it means resorting to underhanded methods like cheating, lying, murdering.

Stuart didn't take pleasure in murder or torture. He hoped for adventure and action, this was true, but he didn't think he could ever enjoy killing someone, even an uncivilised renegade or a filthy bandit. He'd had to kill before in Drac school – it was part of the training, to harden prospective agents to the horror of murder. Stuart knew more ways to kill a person than he knew ways to cook a meal, and he'd been desensitised to the grotesque nature of death – the animalistic terror in their eyes, the shaking hands and doglike groans. Some of the test subjects – usually jailed criminals or captured zonerunners who were due for execution anyway – soiled themselves. Death was messy, unglamorous. Stuart's mind had been dulled to it.

But that didn't mean he liked it. Not one bit.

He noticed a hand signal from Zap up the front of the squad. He was pointing at the mountain range up ahead, which was growing gradually closer. Stuart glanced at his latest-model Tokyoflash watch; it was almost midday. Time had passed more quickly than he'd expected.

As they got closer, Zap led them up into the mountain range, up a steep rocky track littered with rubble. It was treacherous biking, and the whole squad had to slow down to avoid an accident.

Eventually the track led them up to the plateau. Zap signalled for the squad to stop. All of the Dracs braked to a halt, and began to dismount their bikes.

As he was knocking the kickstand into place, Stuart looked up and caught his breath.

He'd seen it for a split second. He wasn't even sure if he'd seen it; a mirage from the sun, perhaps? A heat-induced hallucination?

But there it was again. Behind a large boulder, he noticed a flash of brightly coloured feathers. His heartbeat quickened.

He ran up to Zap. "Commander, there's something behind that boulder," he said. "Possibly a renegade or bandit."

Zap turned to him with a disdainful glare. "Oh, really?" he said sarcastically. "Well, that's _great_, Stewie." He spat the words with a scalding tone, deliberately using the humiliating nickname he'd given Stuart way back in Drac school to embarrass him in front of the other Dracs. They all fell silent, turning to stare at the spectacle.

"Well, if memory serves me, I remember a certain _trainee_ who fell off his bike in terror when a bush of tumbleweed rolled out from behind a rock."

Nobody except Zap laughed. They were all too busy wondering what was going to happen. To react would be too risky; drawing attention to themselves when Zap was in need of a smoke was dangerous.

"Well, Stewie old buddy, if you're so _sure_ about this _renegade_, how about you go take a look for us all?" Zap announced. "I'm sure we'd all appreciate you keeping an eye out for us."

Stuart sighed and pulled out his raygun. Typical of Zap to pick on him when he was just trying to help. If there really was a dangerous bandit about to launch an ambush on them, he'd have the last laugh for sure. Hopefully Zap would swallow his joint and choke to death in shock.

He peeked behind the boulder.

To his shock, a flurry of feathers and metal was launched at him. He dropped his gun and fell backwards in shock. The sharp point stabbed down at him again. With a gasp, he rolled out of the way.

Everything started happening then. Zap was shouting orders, Dracs suddenly began pulling out guns and shooting wildly.

_"Don't just fucking shoot you braindead drones you could hit the fucking Drac and then I'd have a hell of a lot of fucking paperwork on my hands!"_ Zap was bellowing, his face beetroot red.

A pair of small tanned hands grabbed his collar and wrenched Stuart behind the boulder with astonishing strength. The same hands launched his body over someone's shoulder and that someone leapt with a jerky, ungraceful lope over and behind several rocks and boulders, and eventually into a small cave.

He was roughly thrown against the cave wall. The point of what appeared to be a befeathered spear pressed into his chest.

"Make one teensy tiny fucking move and I'll skewer you like a shish kebab," a female voice growled.

Stuart's eyes didn't seem to be focusing; the shock of the attack had made everything all blurred. He blinked hard and struggled to focus, but he'd forgotten to remove his tinted goggles; it was too dark to see.

He turned his eyes towards the mouth of the cave. It was covered with a curtain of dead roots, which he realised made the cave look like just flat rock wall. The Dracs were never going to find him here. He could hear them yelling and calling his name.

Eventually the voices faded, and Stuart heard the revving of bike engines. The bastards, they were abandoning him. Zap's idea, he bet. Heartless sonofabitch, it almost didn't surprise him. No doubt they'd even take his bike as well to "save resources".

The spear prodded him painfully. "Get up," the female voice commanded. "Don't run or I swear to God I'll impale you."

Stuart was prodded and poked out of the cave and into the sunlight. Eventually a booted foot kicked him hard in the small of his back, knocking him to the ground. Scrambling, Stuart rolled over to face his attacker.

The same boot connected with his skull.

Before his vision went black, Stuart caught a blurry glimpse of a pair of angel wings.

_"Angels really exist..."_


	5. Chapter 5

_Everything was dark, warm. Comfortable. Stuart could hear a voice. He didn't like it, he didn't like it at all. It was a knife, slicing through the soft warmth of the dark blanket wrapping his consciousness. He silently begged the voice to leave him be._

_But it was too late. His body was ascending, upwards through the darkness, up through clouds of light, and then a bright shaft of light was piercing the dream... _

"Wake up, you dick."

Stuart's eyes squinted open. He was dizzy. Everything was blurry. A sick ache pounded in his head and he felt himself moan in pain.

"Wake the fuck up!"

Stuart blinked.

The angel was above him. She had a reddish brown halo around her head, she was surrounded in blue light. He couldn't see her face, it was shadowed in silhouette.

He felt a light slapping at his cheek. "God dammit, I'm not dragging a dead body with me, wake up already!"

He opened his mouth. "Did I die?" he croaked.

"Don't be fucking stupid. I just knocked you out."

"Are you an angel?"

He could see her face now.

She looked pissed.

"Good god, did I break your brain?" she barked. "Snap out of it!"

Stuart shook his head. Where was he? He struggled to think. Surveillance... feathers... _renegade._

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. He sat up too quickly; the ache in his head screamed into a searing agony. He moaned and put his hands over his eyes, waiting for the pain to ease.

He realised his mask was gone. He looked up gingerly, looking around for the mask. He noticed it carelessly tossed by a rock with his goggles.

He looked back at his assailant.

She wasn't an angel after all, he could see that. She was a girl, probably a little younger than him. Other than her strange clothes and her scowl, she looked fairly normal. Not like the animalistic uncivilised bandits he'd been taught to kill.

She stood up and turned around. He realised that the angel wings he'd glimpsed on her back weren't real; they were a printed design on the back of her shirt. He blinked.

She picked up a canteen of water and shoved it in his direction. He grabbed it and gulped it down. The water tasted stale and metallic, and it was warm from being in the sun. But he drank it greedily nonetheless, his throat dry and gritty from the dust.

He put the bottle down and wiped his mouth. He looked up at the girl. "Who the hell are you and what is this about?" he demanded. He was confused – the girl had knocked him out. He thought she would have killed him by now, but she hadn't. She'd given him water instead. If she considered him an enemy, then why was she helping him?

"I'm not stupid enough to tell you that," she said. "All you need to know is that as soon as you're okay, you're hightailing it straight back to Battery City. I should have killed you, but I didn't."

"Why didn't you kill me?" he asked. He was starting to get really confused. Why was she helping him?

Her eyes narrowed. "I know a lot of hippies, and some of their values tend to rub off on you," she said coldly. "I don't kill people as a rule."

"You dragged me into a cave and knocked me out."

"You were unlucky. You got yourself involved. If you'd just stayed put, I'd have hidden behind the boulder and you would have moved on and it would have been fine. But you went after me instead. I couldn't risk getting captured, and you were too close, so I dragged you down with me. Simple as that."

It didn't sound simple. Stuart shook his still-groggy head. "I still don't get it, you could have just run off without dragging me along as well.."

"Does it not occur to you that I might not have been thinking?" the girl snapped. "Yes, kidnapping you wasn't exactly the most logical course of action. But it happened. Now you have no weapon and I do, so you're gonna have to do what I tell you either way."

Stuart sighed. She still didn't make much sense, but then he couldn't expect an uncivilised desert girl to be rational or logical. And if hippies were involved, then he couldn't be surprised if she was a bit nuts.

"Now, are you okay to walk back on your own?" she asked.

Stuart did a double-take. _"Walk?"_ he spluttered. "Surely you're not serious? You expect me to _walk_ all the way back to Battery City? Kid, Battery City is far away enough even when you have wheels, but to walk? That's suicide!"

"Well, I can't drive you because I have no car, and I can't take you home because you could report our location," she said coolly. "You Agents already know we have a community here – that's why you were snooping around, wasn't it? You just haven't found it yet. And I'll be fucked over with a rusty pole if I'm going to let you waltz right into it."

She had a point. She looked savvy enough not to trust him.

"Well, I can't go back at this hour in any form of transport," he said, checking his watch. Sure enough, the flashing lights and dots read 15:25 hours. Even if he'd had a bike, he'd still be caught out dark alone and unprotected. He was rat meat on a stick if he tried to go back now.

"I won't expect you to take me to wherever you live. You're right – I'd report it to my superiors. But you wouldn't know anywhere I can take shelter before I try to get home?" he asked.

The girl bit her lip. Stuart wondered what she would do. She didn't look dumb or friendly enough to help him too much, but she didn't look heartless either. Hopefully she was hippy enough to try and help him a little.

Her eyes narrowed again. "There's plenty of caves," she said bluntly. "Sleep in one of them for the night. You Dracs always carry enough damn gear with you to survive for a week out here."

"I can't sleep in a cave!" Stuart blurted out. "That's – that's –"

"Savage?" the girl asked. "Uncivilised? Barbaric?"

Her lip curled into a snarl. "It's more civilised than controlling people or killing people purely for making decisions that don't fit in _conveniently_ with your goals of world domination."

"Alright, alright, you've made your point," Stuart said hastily. "Fine, I'll sleep in a cave. But that's still pretty risky, bandits and dust rats like to hide out in caves."

"Want me to babysit you?" the girl said mockingly. "To scare the big bad monsters under the bed away?"

"Don't be silly," Stuart snapped. "That's not what I'm worried about. The issue is, I don't even have a weapon. If I'm going to sleep in a cave, I'd like to do so with a way to protect myself."

The girl bit her lip again. She looked down at her lethal spear. She looked back at him, then back at the spear again. Her brown hands gripped it so tightly that the knuckles appeared white.

She looked at him. "If... if I give you my spear," she began cautiously, "and I come back here tomorrow morning... you'll give it back to me, right?"

Stuart shrugged. "Whatever, it's just a spear."

"It's _not_ just a spear!" the girl barked. She shot a heavy glare at him. "It's a damn good weapon and it took me a long time to make. It's my only weapon. You break it or lose it or leave before I can get it back, I'll... I'll hunt you down!"

"Okay, I get it," Stuart said. He didn't quite understand the fuss over the spear. Yeah, so she made it herself, but no need to jump down his throat about it. Nonetheless, he nodded. "I'll take good care of it and I'll give it straight back," he said. "I won't leave until you've come back to pick it up."

"You promise?" the girl demanded. She looked worried. A little scared. It dawned on Stuart that finding the materials to make any kind of weapon out here would be difficult.

"I promise," he said.

The girl scowled and turned away, muttering something about being stupid to trust Dracs. But she handed over the spear nonetheless and began packing up the water canteen and other belongings into a battered leather backpack.

Swinging it over her shoulders, she turned back to Stuart. "You meet me here tomorrow morning, okay?" she demanded. Stuart nodded. "Right here," he agreed.

Still looking worried, the girl walked away. She dodged behind a couple of boulders, and then she was gone – disappeared. It was a clever trick. Stuart couldn't tell the direction she was taking by the dodging, and she'd hidden herself very quickly.

_Might be worth learning,_ he contemplated.

First things first, though, he had to figure out where to stay, and how to get back to this boulder so that he could give back the spear the next day.

He walked over to where his mask and goggles had been left. Behind the boulder was his satchel of emergency belongings – every Drac carried one in the event of being accidentally stranded in the desert overnight.

It contained a fire-starting kit, emergency tinned food, a sleeping bag, and other items to help keep him safe and relatively comfortable during his inconvenient stay. It also had a spray can of red paint.

Stuart pulled out the can and marked the boulder, so it was easy to identify. He then sprayed the ground as he searched, so he wouldn't lose his way if he found a cave that was far from the boulder. He eventually found a suitable cave – it was large and dry, not too damp, and had a thick curtain of roots hanging over the narrow, mostly hidden entrance. He took his belongings into the cave and began to work on lighting a fire.

He didn't need to worry about occupying himself for the few hours before it got dark and he could try to sleep – lighting the fire proved to be difficult work, particularly in the dark cave where he could see little. By the time he had a proper fire going, it was nearly six in the evening and the sun had slipped almost behind the horizon.

Stuart left the cave to try and judge whether the fire was visible outside the cave or not, but found himself distracted by the view.

It was truly beautiful on the plateau – the high position was the perfect position to view the desert and the spectacular colours the sun had stained it. Stuart found himself entranced by the gleaming mauve-stained sands, the ice-cream pink and cream cirrus clouds, the ribbing pattern they made across the sky, and the wonderful orange glow of the sun.

He stumbled to the edge of the plateau, feeling no fear as he sat down with his legs over the edge – he was simply hypnotised by the view.

_If only Dracs could set up dwellings out here,_ he mused. _I mean, it must be possible to live out here if there are whole communities existing. I could build a house up here. I could have this view every day. _

It was not until the sun had well and truly set that he remembered his original reason for leaving the cave. He turned around and inspected the rock wall. In the twilight, he couldn't see any light leaving the thick curtain of roots covering his cave. Satisfied that keeping a fire lit would be safe, he went back into the cave and unpacked his sleeping bag and food.

It was a quiet, melancholy evening for Stuart along by the fire. He felt terribly lonely as he shuffled into his all-weather sleeping bag (it came with an air-filled mattress that automatically pumped itself up upon unrolling and an orthopaedic pillow) and prepared his meagre meal of tinned meat and just-add-water rice. Heating the food over the fire, he pondered over the romance of his situation – lonely and fending for himself out in the middle of a desert in a cave with nothing but a fire for company. It sounded like something out of a book. If he was some 19th-century highwayman longing for his out-of-his-league lover, it might have been a romance novel.

However he was a rookie Drac longing instead for the bright lights of his city and his comfortable, sterile Drac-issue apartment in the BL/ind-owned apartment block where flats were rented out to Dracs exclusively.

He missed his microwave, his fridge full of fruit and gourmet packaged meals, his bathroom, his television. The dusty, rocky distance between him and his beloved city comforts seemed so long and distant.

He thought about the girl. No wonder she had a stick up her ass the length of the BL/ind headquarters tower – who could live out here, out in the dust and dirt and wind and heat, without basic necessities like running water, plumbing, refrigeration and temperature control, and not turn into a miserable grouch from the lack of basic needs?

Eventually, after he'd eaten and made some effort to try to clean himself up, he took off his clothes and hunkered down into the sleeping bag. The fire had died down enough so that it was just embers – not fierce enough to be a hazard or attract animals or bandits, but enough to provide some warmth and comfort in the cold desert night.

With a resigned sigh, Stuart popped a couple of sleeping tablets to knock him out for the night – he feared that without them, he'd suffer some very long and uncomfortable hours of darkness.

Eventually, the pills began to get to work and Stuart felt himself slipping into the gentle embrace of sleep, celestial fingers pressing down on his eyelids and making them heavy, a fog enveloping his mind so that his thoughts became blurry.

Before long, the rookie Drac was fast asleep.

"Hey, wake up... yo, wake up!"

Stuart groaned and rolled over. He didn't want to get up, he didn't to go out on a raid, he felt so sore and it was so cold –

Wait. Cold. His apartment's air-conditioning was set to a constant 23 degrees Celcius. It shouldn't have been cold.

His eyes snapped open.

He looked around wildly, not recognising his blurry surroundings. It took him a moment to realise he was in a cave – the cave he'd settled into for the night.

"I'm over here, Drac."

Stuart rolled over and a hazy face swung into view. He blinked furiously until it came into focus, and he recognised the angular features of the zonerunner girl.

He blinked stupidly. "Uh?"

She glared at him, arms crossed. "I'm here to pick up my spear," she snapped.

Stuart saw that she was kneeling down beside his sleeping bag. And in a flash of sudden realisation, he came to the understanding that he was still naked in his sleeping bag.

He looked down quickly. Thankfully, he hadn't wriggled out of it in his sleep – from the chest down, he was safely covered.

The girl smirked wryly. "You're a slow one in the mornings, aren't you?" she asked dryly.

Stuart blinked and shook his head. "Uh – spear. Um, over there."

The girl nodded and stood up, picking up the spear off the wall. "Good to see you didn't need it," she said. "In fact, you're damn lucky you didn't need it."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have any _idea_ how obvious this cave is?" she asked. Stuart frowned. "I thought it looked pretty hidden," he protested.

The girl shook her head. "If any bandits came by here, they'd have known immediately that someone was in here," she said sternly. "If the smell of smoke or the bright neon _spray paint_ didn't tip them off, the fact that you used a pretty common cave for squatting would have. Don't they teach you how to survive out here in that fancy city?"

"We ran over the basics," Stuart growled. "Basically, the idea is to _not_ get stuck out here."

"Well, you did a mighty fine job of screwing that one up. You're lucky you're still alive."

She hefted the spear and walked towards the entrance of the cave. "Thanks, and good luck getting back to the city," she said. "You'd better start walking if you want to get there before dark."

"Wait!" Stuart said. The girl stopped, looking puzzled.

"Um," Stuart said. "I didn't catch your name."

She snorted. "That's 'cause I didn't _give_ it to you," she snapped. "Remember? I'm not going to hand my identity over to a Drac."

"It's not as if you showed me where you live," Stuart insisted. "And I didn't exactly get to grab a picture of you. So I can't report you or put you on the wanted list. Besides, apart from threatening a BL/ind agent, you haven't even committed any crimes we can publicly condemn you for. So you're pretty safe."

She still frowned at him, refusing to trust him.

"If it helps, my name's Stuart," he offered.

She smirked. "You're an idiot," she said. "You seriously have got to be the worst Drac I've ever heard of. Giving out your name like that, no wonder I was able to catch you so easily."

She smiled properly. "Just for that, I'm telling you my name, you're too incompetent to figure my identity out anyway even if you tried."

She parted the curtain of roots. Just as she stepped out, she called back, "Angel. My name's Angel."

"Wait!" Stuart called, but she was gone. He heard the crunch of boots on rock as she sprinted away.

"Fuck," he mumbled. He was still disoriented from sleep. He checked his watch – it was only five-thirty. Damn, she'd arrived early. He guessed that she didn't want to be caught out here by bandits or other Dracs. Maybe the daytime wasn't safe for people like her.

He sighed and dragged himself out of the sleeping bag, pulling his clothes back on. She was right – he'd better get a move on if he wanted to get back to the City before dark.

It was just after sunrise when Stuart finally got on his way back to the City. It had taken longer than he had anticipated to roll up his sleeping bag and pack up his items, as well as to hide the remains of his little fire. But he was still making pretty good time – Angel's wake up call had ensured that.

It had been difficult to get off the plateau and onto the plains – even on foot, the track was pretty unpredictable and dangerous. It was slow going, but it was necessary to prevent taking a wrong step and sending himself tumbling fatally down the cliff.

Eventually however, he found himself leaving the plateau and wandering out into the naked openness of the desert plains.

Out here, he felt strangely vulnerable. No caves to hide in, no ravine wall to back up against. But the going was much easier, and much quicker to navigate. If he jogged most of the way, he'd be home before it got too dark.

After a few hours, however, he discovered that that would not be the case.

It started when he glanced over his shoulder to see how far away he was from the plateau. It was becoming much smaller in the distance, indicating he'd covered a pleasing amount of ground despite being on foot. Then something caught his eye.

Against the backdrop of the mountains, he noticed a cloud of dust. And it seemed to be getting bigger.

In a flurry of momentary panic, Stuart thought _fuck, I'm about to be caught in a dust storm_. However, he realised that it wasn't growing rapidly – it was increasing slowly. Ever so slowly.

About at the same rate as a far-away car at high speed.

Soon, he could faintly see the silhouette of the car – a big black Jeep. His heart dropped. _Bandits_. He began to run, knowing it was futile.

As it got closer, though, he realised that it could not have been a bandit car. The Jeep was reasonably clean, with shiny, new parts and no major scratches or areas of damage. Not like a typical bandit car, which was usually practically falling apart. This Jeep was virtually new, and well-kept. Also, there was no graffiti or paint on the black bodywork. It was just a plain black Jeep.

After a while, it drew close enough for Stuart to see the driver inside – a large, gruff-looking middle-aged man who, despite several tattoos, a biker's beard and a generally rough appearance, looked reasonably normal in a grey suit.

Stuart held out his fist in a hitchhiker's gesture. To his relief, the Jeep slowed to a stop beside him. Stuart wrenched open the passenger's door.

"Uh, hey man," he said. His mouth was dry from the dust and physical exertion – his tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth, slurring his words, lisping his 's'es and making speech difficult. "You heading into BC?"

The man nodded. He looked wary, untrusting. "What's a Drac doing out here with no bike or car?" he asked warily.

"Got kidnapped by... some bandits," Stuart lied. He didn't know why he was protecting the girl, but it didn't seem right to incriminate her for some reason. She was just a kid trying to survive, after all. She didn't deserve to be on the run as well. He realised to his horror that he was feeling sympathetic for her, a mere zonerunner.

"They stole my bike and my radio," Stuart continued. "I managed to keep most of my gear, though. I've been walking since sunrise. Mind giving me a lift back to BC? I'm happy to pay for fuel."

The man hesitated. Fuel was expensive – it was no light offer to Stuart to pay for the fuel expenses. Only a fool would give up an offer like that.

"Hop in," the man said gruffly. "And get in quickly, you're dustin' up the whole car."

Stuart gratefully launched himself into the passenger seat, throwing his backpack into the back of the Jeep with a sigh. He closed the door and the man hit the pedal.

"What's your name?" the man asked. "And don't give me none of that 'Drac Number 54' crap."

"Stuart," Stuart said. "Yours?"

"Adam."

"So... what are you doing out in the desert?" Stuart asked. "You don't look like a BL/ind Agent to me."

"Camping," Adam said. "I... like the outdoors." He shot Stuart a glare. "There's nothing wrong with getting out of the city every now and then."

"Hey, I have no problem with that," Stuart said, holding his hands up defensively. "I get where you're coming from. I'm no drugged up drone of a Drac, don't you worry."

Adam seemed to relax a little. "You're not one of those bastards who signed up for the killin'?"

Stuart shook his head. "It's part of the training to be desensitised to the task of killing people," he admitted, "but I get no joy from it. It's certainly not something I'll do if I can help it. I didn't sign up to kill people."

He shrugged. "I guess I signed up for the same reason you go camping. Adventure, getting out of the monotony of the city."

Adam looked a little less hostile. "See some real sunsets."

"Get a little action."

"You get much action as a Drac?"

"Not really. The incident with the bandits was my first real adventure. I guess I was expecting a little more excitement – more raids, more firefights – but it sure beats your average office job."

Adam smirked. "I guess I see the appeal when you put it that way," he said. "I guess anything beats your average Battery City office job. Turns them poor bastards into little more than vegetables."

"Yeah, exactly. I didn't want to become your typical Battery City drugged-up vegetable."

"That's why I go campin'."

"So what do you do for a living?"

"I manage a shop. One of the Battery City General Store Co. outlets." Battery City General Store Co. was a retail store that dealt in general goods – everything from toilet brushes to toasters to cosmetics. Apparently they'd had a lot of problems with piracy recently.

"Ahhh yeah. How's that working out?"

"Better than most jobs, but still pretty dull. Comin' out here on weekends keeps me sane."

"Are the piracy rumours true?"

"Yeah. Mostly the stores on the outskirts get targeted. It's not as bad as the Fact News likes to make out, though. Just a few generic goods here and there, nothing major. I guess in a place where people have nothing, piracy is just gonna happen."

"True."

Adam and Stuart talked for the next few hours. Adam turned out to be a pretty friendly guy – he admitted that his earlier hostility was from previous bad experiences of dealing with Dracs and BL/ind employees. He made no secret of the fact that he disapproved of BL/ind. Stuart made it clear that he was not bothered by Adam's criticism. He was aware that not everyone loved the corporation, and it didn't worry him. He didn't feel much loyalty to BL/ind himself, he just took the job for the perks.

The ride into BC continued for another three and a half hours. In that time, Stuart found he was getting to know Adam pretty well. It turned out that Adam had no family in BC – he had a niece over in one of the East Coast settlements, but his remaining family had all died in the Fires.

Adam very briefly mentioned that he'd had three children and five young grandchildren before the Fires, but said little else. Stuart decided not to push the subject.

In turn, he chatted about his own life in BC, about graduating from high school and enrolling into Drac school. How proud his parents had been that he was signing up to be the equivalent of a police officer. His mother's frequent, frantic calls about his safety. About how her calls became less frequent and more relaxed once their family doctor had put her on a course of new medication to help her relax.

His parents' eventual transformation into a pair of passive, placid vegetable people who smiled blankly at him when he told them about a near miss he'd had in training, when before his mother would have gone ballistic. And how ever since he'd watched his parents degrade into non-people, he'd promised himself that he wouldn't let himself end up in the same predicament.

"I'd rather be killed out here as a living, surviving, scared human being, than fade away passively in there," Stuart explained. "It's like they've died. I mourn the people they were, even though they're still alive, because they're shells of what they used to be."

Adam shook his head. "That's what Battery City does to ya," he said sadly. "It's terrible. Something about that place kills people inside, kills their desire to live and feel. Those of us who haven't been killed yet, we have to get outta there as much as possible so they can't influence us for too long. Otherwise we die inside too. It's an awful situation."

Eventually the great grey wall of Battery City drew close in the distance. Adam pulled the Jeep up to a gate, where a Scarecrow asked them for ID and passports. Adam pulled out a collection of ID cards, licenses and his passport, all of which the Scarecrow looked over carefully. Stuart held up his BL/ind ID card. The Scarecrow glanced quickly at it, before nodding and waving them through into the glittering city.

They were in the West end of the city, near Stuart's apartment. As Adam drove further into the centre of the city, Stuart waited until he recognised the Five Mile train station. This station was on the Northern Line, which was direct to his apartment block. "I'll get out here," he said to Adam, who pulled over to the kerb.

"Here's my contact details," Stuart said writing his address, phone number and inner-internet email address onto one of Adam's notebooks. "Call me and let me know when you want that fuel money, I can't give it to you right now but I'll get back to you if you give me your details."

Adam shook his head. "On the house," he said. "Look, Stuart, it was my pleasure. You don't need to pay me, I'm not a taxi."

"What? But –!"

"Shuddup, boy, I don't want your money. I'm not gonna go grubbin' off a kid like you, I know rookie Dracs like you don't get paid an awful lot. Think of it as a favour, y'dig? Maybe one day I'll call you up when I need a lift."

Stuart stared at Adam, agape. "That's no small favour," he protested. "That was an awful lot of fuel. I don't want to be stealing a ride off you."

"You won't be. I'll get back to you, remember?" Adam winked. "You take care, kid. Make sure you don't turn into one of those regular drones. You're a good kid, try to stay that way."

"I - thank you."

"No problem. I'll be seeing you later."

And with that, Adam pulled the passenger door shut on the Jeep and drove off, leaving Stuart standing stunned on the sidewalk.

Stuart barely remembered the train ride back to his apartment. He kept mulling over the past day in his head, still dumbfounded by Adam's kindness. There weren't many people in Battery City who'd have given a lift to a stranger in the desert free of charge. Of course now Stuart owed Adam one, but still – that had been no insignificant favour.

As he entered his apartment, everything felt like a dream, unreal. Only 24 hours earlier, he'd been shivering in a sleeping bag by a fire out in the middle of nowhere. And now he was back into the climate-controlled comfort of his apartment. There was even an instant meal pack in the refrigerator, waiting to be heated up in the microwave – chicken carbonara, his favourite.

Even the scalding heat of the shower couldn't seem to wake him up. It didn't seem to be hot enough as he washed away the dirt and sweat and dust of the past two days. Being squeaky clean and wrapped in comfort only seemed to enhance the dreamlike state he was in.

_Do I always feel like this in BC?_ Stuart wondered. In the past two days, he'd been forced to truly survive, to fend for himself. And now he wasn't doing anything. Going back to the quiet comfort of the city felt unreal.

_I've always been like this,_ Stuart realised. _I just never noticed. Being out there woke me up and forced me to live. But now I'm falling asleep again._

As he drifted off into sleep, his thoughts drifted to the zonerunner girl. Angel. He wondered what she was doing, what her life was like.

Before he fell asleep, the last image in his head was of the back of her shirt. Angel's wings.

_"Tell me, Angel, where are you..?"_


	6. Chapter 6

_Phobia and Poison knew something was wrong the moment Angel walked back into the house. They may have only been in The Sanctum for a week, but in the desert, a week is a long time. Living full time with another person – sleeping in a room with them, eating with them, struggling to survive alongside them – you got to know them quickly. Angel was close to becoming like a sister to the two girls._

Phobia realised things were not right when she saw Angel's hands.

She'd never learned to read eyes – other people's eyes unnerved her. She'd stare into their eyes wondering why hers weren't the same – why her eyes weren't neutral coloured, why she didn't possess soft round pupils. Eventually she found herself forced to look away.

When she was first found, it was worse – she truly lived up to her name then, not even daring to look into others' faces, afraid of their unfamiliar features. She would stare at their hands and feet. After a while of identifying people solely by their hands, she'd learned to read hands very well. She still had trouble with faces, but all she needed to recognise a person was their hands. Masks did not fool her, and neither did trained liars – unlike faces, hands did not lie.

Today, Angel's hands were different. Harder. The tendons were raised – Angel was tense. And there were new marks – scuffs and scrapes that did not match Angel's usual activities. These weren't made by lifting and manual labour, no rock or sand or wood had made these marks. The marks spoke violence to her. Phobia felt the downy fur on the back of her neck and shoulders rising.

To her horror, she also realised that Angel's spear was gone. Angel couldn't have left it outside, she never did that for fear of it being stolen. Where had her spear gone?

Something had happened. Something violent.

Angel walked in with a wry smile. "How did it go with Midas?" she asked. Midas had picked up the two girls to help with work on the construction of a new dwelling for refugees, leaving Angel to go out to gather materials.

"Really well," Poison replied. Phobia knew that she hadn't yet noticed anything wrong. "We finished ahead of schedule, Midas was pretty happy. Now we just need to add the outer covering and it'll be finished. The architect... what was his name?"

"Lemon Mentos, I think," Phobia said.

"That's right," Poison continued. "Lemon Mentos. Well, he's experimenting with a new camouflage material to cover the outer walls. Apparently it's a new technology developed by BL/ind for overnight Drac expeditions." She grinned. "He certainly didn't say how he got ahold of it!"

"Probably the Battery Buccaneers," Harmony called from the kitchen. "You girls know them?"

Phobia and Poison shook their heads.

"They're a pirate gang," Harmony explained. "Like, literal pirates. Except there's no ocean, hah. But anyway, they specialise in hijacking BL/ind cargo transport vehicles and stealing the goods. They're also experts at reselling BL/ind goods into the desert illegally. They have undercover agents in most of the businesses in Battery City and even some of the other settlements – they're pretty powerful. That's how we get so many BL/ind developed goods brought out here, as well as gas and fuel. They even have a special code to communicate based on pirate terminology to avoid getting caught."

"Huh," Poison said. "That explains a lot."

Harmony laughed. "You didn't think all our stuff just appeared out of nowhere, did you? Everything has to come from something. That's just the natural way. Not that I condone the BB's methods – I'd hate to see their karma debt. But considering how much they've helped us out here live more comfortably, I guess that karma's paid back somewhat."

She walked out of the kitchen, letting out an "Oof!" as she plonked onto the couch. "I hate to say it, but it's illegal pirate gangs like the BB gang that keep our lives out here viable," she said. "There's a real business in pirating, and we depend on that business. Otherwise, bye-bye small comforts like genetically-modified desert fruit, meat and milk. Even gas. How else do you think those gang idiots power their fancy cars?" She winked at the girls.

Angel let out an irritated sigh. "Maybe it would be better if there was no gas, so they wouldn't be driving those dumb cars and pissing off Dracs," she snapped. She disappeared through the door to her room. "I'm going to bed."

Phobia looked at Poison. Poison had noticed now, she knew. Perhaps Harmony as well.

Something was definitely wrong.

Later, just after dark, Poison and Phobia decided to confront Angel. They knew she was hiding something, and they couldn't afford to allow something to go unsaid between the trio.

"Angel should know better than to hide something from us," Poison reasoned. "I mean, we have to have trust, right? All three of us. That's how we're all going to survive out here – trust. But we can't trust her if she's not going to tell us things – and it shows that she doesn't trust us."

Phobia shook her head. "I don't like this," she said. "Whatever's wrong, it must be big if she won't tell us. I mean, she wouldn't hide something from us usually. Whatever this is, it's pretty bad."

"Then it's all the more reason for her to tell us!" Poison pressed. "We can't let fear get in the way, Phobia. Remember?"

"I know," Phobia said miserably. "Bravery isn't having no fear, it's doing what's right despite being afraid."

"Good girl," Poison said gently. "Now, come on. We need to find out what's wrong."

They went through to Angel's room – their room. Poison pushed through the hanging bead-string barricade gently. "Hey, Angel," she said with a smile. Phobia felt ill inside. What if Angel snapped at them? Or got angry at them? They couldn't afford to have fights out here.

Angel looked up, her eyes dark. "I said I went to bed," she said coldly. Angel was never cold.

Poison's eyes were hard. "I know," she said. "But we knew you weren't sleeping."

"Yeah, how?"

"Because we _know_ you," Poison said. "You don't go to bed before midnight, like most people here. And you don't get up before mid-afternoon. You couldn't be tired when it's just evening."

"Maybe I worked hard today," Angel retorted. Poison smirked. "Doing what?" she asked. "C'mon, Angel, Midas let you off easy today. He got you to go foraging because it's an easy task."

"Yeah well, whatever. I still want to sleep." Angel rolled over, refusing to face them.

Phobia couldn't stand it anymore. She was still scared, but she had to say it. She grabbed Angel's hand.

"Angel, these marks aren't from foraging!" she blurted out. "Look at yourself, something's wrong! You come home late with these cuts and bruises. They're not from wood or rock or sand, they're from bone. You didn't have you spear. You _never_ go anywhere without your spear. Where is it, Angel? Where did you leave your spear?"

Angel ripped her hand away from Phobia, eyes ablaze. "I didn't leave it _anywhere!_" she hissed. "Will you two just cut the goddamn crap? Nothing happened today! Absolutely nothing! I went out, grabbed some firewood, whatever! Now piss off!"

Poison's eyes narrowed. Phobia watched the girl's fists clench. "If nothing happened, you wouldn't be acting like this! Want to explain why you've been in such a shitty mood since you came back?"

"Maybe because you two won't leave me _alone!_" Angel yelled. "I've been stuck with you two since you came, maybe I wanted some private time! _ALONE!_ Without you two breathing down my neck the whole damn time! Maybe if you two weren't _here,_, I wouldn't be in such a shitty mood!"

Poison recoiled. Phobia felt herself shrink back in surprise. A horrible feeling settled in her stomach. Angel sounded like.. like she _regretted_ taking them home.

Phobia saw that Poison's knuckles were white, her hands were trembling ever so slightly. She knew that meant that Poison was angry, unthinkably angry. Poison was scary when she was angry.

"Well, fine," Poison snapped. Her voice cut the thick air like a wire thread. "But just remember, _you_ chose _us_. So next time you decide to rave about how you never get any privacy, just remember who it was who said we were coming home with you. This one's your own damn fault."

Poison stood up and marched out of the room. Phobia followed. She glanced quickly over her shoulder at Angel. In the fading light, it seemed like Angel was deflated. Smaller somehow.

She followed Poison, who stomped out of the hut and into the street. Then Poison plonked down by the gutter and started to sob. Phobia sat next to her, unsure of what to do. She didn't know what to do when people were crying yet.

She'd learned most social cues now, like the appropriate response when someone tells you their mother died, and why you shouldn't say certain things in certain situations. She'd worked it out pretty well now. But even to this day, she still had no idea how to comfort someone who was crying. All she could do was sit nearby awkwardly.

She tentatively put her arm around Poison's shoulders. To her great relief, Poison did not pull away – she turned and buried her face into Phobia's chest, still crying.

Phobia was still confused, though. Why would Angel say something like that? Why would she hurt them? Why would she take them home if she didn't want them?

Phobia wasn't that great at reading social cues, but she was pretty sure that Angel's behaviour had been pretty odd. She'd seemed ecstatic to have them the whole time, grateful to have the girls as friends. Right up until that afternoon, when they'd driven away to the construction site with Midas, Angel was waving and grinning as they left. Even then, Phobia had sensed nothing wrong. And even if her interpretation of social indicators were inaccurate, she knew Poison's weren't, and Poison hadn't sensed anything either.

In fact, Angel hadn't been this moody the whole time they'd known her.

_Maybe she's on her period?_ Phobia thought hopefully. Luckily her biology seemed to be constructed so that she didn't seem to have a monthly cycle – she'd never had one as far as she could remember. However, she'd seen the way Poison and the other girls and women on the ranch had been like when they were on their period. It was a nightmare – they would go crazy. Poison was prone to fits of depression. There was one woman who would violently lash out at anyone who she felt had insulted her in some way (which was usually trivial anyway). Other girls would cycle through moods of happiness, depression, and violent anger. The worst was when all the women had co-ordinated their periods from being in close vicinity with each other all the time. Phobia and all the men in the ranch had to ready themselves to run for cover when it came for the time of each monthly onslaught of chaos.

_Perhaps Angel is the same,_ Phobia contemplated. She hoped that was the case – that all this grief was just because Angel was a moody bitch during her period.

Although, wouldn't Angel have warned them if that was the case? That's what the women in the ranch did, to avoid conflicts resulting over trivial misunderstandings. You couldn't take a woman's insults personally if she was on her period, and so long as you were aware of when a woman was on her period, it was usually okay. So why hadn't Angel done that? It would have been nice to give them some warning, so they could give her space and let her be as moody as she liked.

Phobia looked up. The night had well and truly taken over the settlement. The darkness became clearer as her pupils widened to take in more light; her cat-like pupils were another advantage to her modified form.

As such, details that would have escaped a normal human were not missed by her. She sensed movement in a shadow by Carol and Lewis's house.

"Hey Alice, Dinah," she called with a smile. She liked the girls, young as they were – Alice was seven, Dinah was five. She wasn't sure why, but she got on well with the Coloured kids, and they seemed to gravitate towards her. Whenever she was in the street, it seemed the Coloured kids would magically appear to cling to her knees. She never imagined she'd be good with kids, but they were besotted with her. She knew it was probably only because she was closest thing they had to an adult of their kind.

The girls left the shadows tentatively. "You always see us, Phobia," Alice complained. Phobia giggled. "Of course I do, I can see in the dark like you, you know. What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be inside?"

Dinah shook her head. "Mom and Dad are cleaning," she said. "They wanted us out of the house while they were dusting out the basement." Her eyes flicked toward Poison. "We wanted to stay in, but we came out 'cause we heard crying."

Alice reappeared beside Phobia, staring curiously at Poison. "Why are you crying?" she asked.

Poison lifted her head from Phobia's shoulder. She wiped her face clumsily. "Nothing, girls, it's okay," she said with a shaky laugh. "I just got a little upset."

"Did you fall over?" Dinah asked, eyes wide. "I fell over yesterday, it hurt." She offered her arm, showing a scabbed-over scrape on her elbow. "I cried."

"'Cause you're a big baby," Alice said, shoving her little sister.

"Am not!" Dinah yelled, soft mauve eyes shiny. Her bottom lip began to quiver and she ducked her head, letting a curtain of dark purple hair fall over her face.

"Am so," Alice taunted, fiery orange eyes ablaze. Her hair was purple too, but shot through with streaks of orange.

"Hey now girls, settle down," Phobia said sternly. The two girls immediately fell silent, obeying Phobia absolutely.

Poison smiled. "Maybe you two should go see what the Barista kids are doing?" she suggested, referring to the Barista family down the street. The girls looked at Phobia, who nodded in agreement. With her permission, they skittered off down the street, arguing again.

"You really have them under your spell, you know," Poison murmured. She'd stopped crying. Phobia shrugged. "They just like me because I'm the same as them," she said. "I look like them."

Poison shook her head. "I think it's a bit more than that," she said quietly. "They hang off your every word. They'd do anything for you. It's like you're in control of them or something."

Phobia shuddered. For some reason, the idea of controlling someone mindlessly disturbed her. She had an image of herself as some kind of tyrant, dominating a horde of minion Coloured kids, a pack of zombies. She didn't like it.

"It's not like that," she protested. "I'm not – I don't _control_ them!"

"If you say so, but whatever it is you do to them, it's creepy."

"But I –!"

"Hey."

Poison and Phobia looked behind them. To Phobia's surprise it was Angel, silhouetted by the light from the hut. Even in the dark, she could see the tear stains on the girl's cheeks.

She looked awful.

"I don't know if saying sorry is going to help," she said timidly. Her eyes were downcast, unwilling to meet those of the two girls.

"I didn't mean what I said," Angel continued. "I was saying those things because... I... I don't know."

She hugged herself. "I really have no excuse for what I said," she admitted. "I was out of line. I don't blame you if you really want to leave now, what I said wasn't forgivable."

Poison stood up and walked over, putting her hand on Angel's shoulder. "Don't be dumb," she said. "This isn't high school. This is the desert. We can't walk out on each other just over a petty argument, that'd be stupid."

Phobia stood up as well. "It's okay," she agreed. "Just give us some warning next month."

Angel stared at her in confusion. "Next month?" she exclaimed surprisedly. Her eyes widened, and she doubled over laughing.

"Angel?" Phobia asked, confused. She'd thought she was being insightful for once, guessing that Angel was just on her period. Damn.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Angel said, still giggling. "I guess I deserved that. I was acting like a crabby bitch. But no, Phobia, that's not why I was being horrible to you two."

She looked melancholy again. "I'd be happy if that really was just the problem," she said sadly. "I wish it was."

Phobia looked at Poison, confused. Was she missing something? Poison shrugged. She hadn't got it either; obviously Phobia wasn't ten minutes behind again.

"Look, come inside and I'll tell you," Angel said. "I can't tell you out here."

The two girls followed Angel back into the house and into their room. Harmony and Midas were nowhere to be seen; probably in the basement asleep. Harmony had had to go to bed earlier and earlier recently.

Angel sat on the mattresses, the two girls following suit.

She looked visibly uncomfortable, not looking at them. Phobia saw that she was gripping her hands tightly, restlessly rubbing her knuckles and squeezing her thumbs. Angel was very nervous. She was going to tell them something pretty serious.

"The reason I was being so crabby and I didn't have my spear and my hands have weird cuts on them," she blurted out, "is because I helped a Drac."

The two girls blinked.

"I almost got caught!" Angel exclaimed. Poison motioned at her to keep her voice down.

"I was out near the plateau," she said, lowering her voice. "I'd gone out there because I saw some fallen trees that I thought would be really useful – Midas would love them for the new huts, they'd be great building material. But while I was out there, a Drac squadron came around patrolling. I was in a bad place; all I could do was hide behind a boulder. Oh god, I was so scared."

Angel's eyes were big and shiny. She rubbed her hands together harder.

"I was so afraid they'd find me and kill me," she whimpered. "And one of them saw me. I thought I was going to piss myself, I was terrified. I thought I was dead when he told his squad leader. Lucky for me the dude was an asshole – he didn't take the Drac seriously. He made the Drac check it out, though. I had to take him hostage. I didn't want to, I just wanted to run and hide, but I knew that if they caught me they'd kill me. Attacking the guy caused enough confusion for me to drag him off and hide."

Poison looked livid. "Do you have any idea how _stupid_ that was?" she exclaimed. "Attacking a Drac? You'd have been better off making a break for it!"

"I wasn't thinking straight!" Angel retorted. "I was fucking terrified, who the hell thinks logically when they're about to be killed by a bunch of Dracs?"

Phobia flapped her hands, motioning for the two girls to simmer down. Angel lowered her voice again.

"So I took him hostage and hid in a cave. The Dracs got confused enough that they didn't see where we went. In the end they drove off. God, I was so lucky they didn't find us."

"So what did you do with the Drac?"

"I knocked him out. I didn't know what he was capable of, he could have been one of the really nasty Dracs, the shoot-first-ask-later ones. Then I tied him up and checked his stuff. I found his ID – it turned out he was only a rookie. I was really, really lucky – he was totally incompetent!"

"What did you do when he woke up?"

"I made sure he didn't think I was a pushover. I had to be a bitch. I didn't want to be, but I had to – I couldn't let him think I was afraid or weak in case he tried to exploit any weaknesses. It was really hard, I was so scared, but I think I convinced him. Anyway, he didn't seem to want to harm me, so I guess there wasn't any point in keeping him there. I didn't want to kill him, so I told him to just go home. He didn't like that – apparently Battery City was too far away to walk. So I told him to camp out for the night."

"So he's out here, on the plateau right now?" Poison asked, sounding horrified.

"He doesn't know where The Sanctum is," Angel said. "I made sure of that. But yeah, he's on the plateau. In a cave probably."

"And your spear?"

Angel looked miserable. "I gave it to him," she lamented. "He said he needed a weapon – I threw away his ray gun so he had no protection. I made him promise to stay until I could come back tomorrow to pick it up."

She angrily wiped away tears. "I'll probably never see my spear again. I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to give it to him, I must have still been loopy from the attack. Oh god, what am I going to do?"

She began to cry. Poison reached over to hug Angel. Awkwardly, Phobia followed suit, so the three girls were knotted in a group hug around Angel.

"I just feel so stupid," Angel sobbed. "What if he works out where we are? What if he brings his squad to kill us? What if he doesn't give me back my spear?"

Secretly, Phobia felt relieved. Angel had opened up to them. She'd trusted them. More importantly, she'd trusted them with some pretty bad news. She understood now why Angel hadn't wanted to talk to them before – running into Dracs was really bad. Especially if there was now a risk of them discovering The Sanctum. And what if Angel was reported for attacking a Drac? What if she was added to the Wanted list? She was just a girl, a teenager. She wasn't a hardened criminal. Phobia knew what happened to Wanted people – they were treated like terrorists, captured as if they were dangerous animals and thrown into prisons with other criminals. A horrible dungeon with hardened killers and bandits. Angel wasn't one of them. She'd never survive in one of those prisons. But would BL/ind take any notice? Or would they treat her like any other bandit, throwing her into a prison to be eaten alive by the other inmates? It didn't bear thinking about.

If word got out in The Sanctum, there would be uproar. Angel would probably be accosted by the gang leaders and persecuted for risking the safety of the small haven in the valley. Keeping the community secret was of utmost importance, and risking that secret was a serious offence. Anyone who accidentally slipped up would not be let off easily. Angel wouldn't be any better off in the clutches of the gang leaders than if she was thrown in a BL/ind prison.

Yet she'd told them. She'd trusted them. And the fact that she'd trusted Poison and Phobia with this awful secret made Phobia feel a lot better. Angel did trust them after all – she wasn't sick of them, she was just afraid for all of their safety. Despite their now dire situation, Phobia took comfort in the fact that the three girls were still friends.

"I j-just wish I hadn't gone to get the b-bloody trees," Angel blubbed, face red, eyes puffy and cheeks wet. She rubbed at her eyes shakily. "Sh-should have stayed... should h-have stuck to the v-valley... I fucked up..."

Phobia was in a sticky situation again. Should she hug Angel? She looked helplessly at Poison.

Poison smiled wryly at her, before taking Angel's shoulders and pulling her into a hug, resting Angel's head on her shoulder. Angel bawled into Poison's shirt.

Phobia found herself fascinated by Angel's crying. She hadn't seen that many people cry before – two people in one day was a jackpot for her. People were so interesting when they cried.

_Crying people should be so ugly,_ she mused. _But there's something about them... that takes away that ugliness._

Was it the instinct to try to comfort whoever it was that was crying? You didn't want to hug ugly things. Maybe that instinct took away the ugliness, so you could actually comfort them without being disgusted. Because really, crying people were ugly. In Phobia's opinion Angel was usually fairly pretty, but right now she was a mess – her hair was everywhere, her face was red and blotchy, and everything was wet and gooey. Not only was it coming from her eyes, it was coming from her mouth and nose – Angel was leaking all over Poison's shirt.

Yet Poison wasn't grimacing in disgust or pulling away. She was hugging Angel closer, murmuring reassuring words. Her face was a picture of sympathy and concern.

As much as Phobia also felt concern and sympathy for her friend, she was also fascinated.

_Does that make me a bad person?_ she mused. _I'm so.. detached._

This revelation shocked her. It settled, a heavy weight on her chest.

_I can't even comfort my friends properly._

Poison looked up at her and gave her a reassuring smile. She'd read her like a book, Phobia already knew that. It was the main reason they'd become inseparable – despite Phobia's inability to engage properly with other people, Poison countered this with her extraordinary ability to empathise and understand. Poison was a true people person.

"Phobes, do you wanna grab some water for Angel?" Poison said softly. Phobia nodded and jumped up, whispering a silent thank you to Poison as she left the room for giving her something to do – some way to help rather than sitting by uselessly.

She went into the kitchen, locating the cooler chest quickly despite the darkness. She flipped up the lid, rummaging among the many bottles and containers of water to find a small bottle. Midas was able to access substantial amounts of water thanks to his ties with Black Jack, so they were never short on drinking water.

She found the bottle she wanted – a little drink bottle usually used for short travelling trips – and went back to the bedroom, pushing through the strings of beads.

By now, Angel was no longer blubbering into Poison's shirt. She'd calmed down somewhat and was now just resting in Poison's arms, staring into space and hiccuping occasionally.

"Here, Angel," Phobia said, holding out the bottle of water. Angel smiled bleakly and took it, taking great gulps from the bottle. When she was done Poison took it from her, tipping small amounts of the remaining water into her hands and wiping Angel's face with it, rinsing away the tear tracks.

"Thanks guys," Angel mumbled when Poison was done.

"Don't worry about it," Poison said. "You're our friend, remember? We gotta stick together, even when you fuck up like an idiot."

Angel snickered, smirking bitterly. "Maybe the radiation's killed my brain already."

"Oh, don't talk like that," Phobia said, ruffling Angel's hair. "You're not brain-dead. You just fucked up a little."

"A little? Were you even listening?"

"Of course I was." Phobia shrugged. "And relatively speaking, I don't think it's so bad."

Poison and Angel both stared at Phobia. "Um. Please explain," Poison said. "Your logic eludes me."

"Well, c'mon!" Phobia said. "He's just a rookie Drac, for a start. You yourself said he's incompetent. If he really is stuck out in the desert with no experience of staying here, then he's not going to risk his only chance of escaping – you. He's not gonna piss you off, or you won't help him. And as far as he's aware, he needs that help if he's going to survive, right?"

Poison raised an eyebrow. "I suppose," she said. "But still.. it's not a great situation."

"It's better than if you'd dealt with a proper Drac," Phobia said. "A real experienced Drac – or even just one of those really evil ones – would have just tried to kill you, whether you tied him up or not, right?"

"Right," Angel said, sniffing.

"Right. But this guy didn't touch you – he asked you to help him. Any Drac out to hurt you wouldn't have done that."

"But what about tomorrow?"

"Don't worry about it," Phobia said confidently. "Me and Poise will go with you. We'll hide while you deal with the guy, and if there's any sign of a scuffle we'll be right there."

"Cool, but what about The Sanctum?"

"He has no way of finding out! You said he didn't follow you, or see what direction you went in. You also said the Dracs were already checking out the area. We can't do anything about that – that wasn't your fault. If anything, the best thing we can do is warn the gang leaders that the Dracs are getting too nosy. They can sort it out."

Angel nodded. She looked much calmer now, less afraid. "I guess," she said. "Thanks, Phobia."

"No problem." Phobia grinned. "We just gotta get up early, hah!"

Poison groaned. "And it's already so late," she complained. "As soon as we're done with this, I vote we go straight back to bed!"

"That's if Midas doesn't catch us and dump errands on us," Angel sighed. "Life has gotten so complicated lately."

"Just think, after tomorrow this will all be over," Poison said soothingly. "For now.. I guess all we can do is get whatever sleep we can. We'll need it."

With that, the girls settled down. Poison blew out the candles, Phobia pulled off her jeans, and the three girls snuggled up together on the mattresses. Within moments they were asleep.

The first rays of dawn pouring into the room was woke Poison up. Her eyelids fluttered, irritated at the light. She wasn't yet used to sleeping through sunlight...

Sunlight. Shit. Morning. _Shiiiit._

She sat straight up, jolting out of the bed swearing. She shook Phobia and Angel awake. "Guys guys guys!" she exclaimed. "Wake UP!"

The two girls looked blearily at her for a moment, before snapping into action.

"Fuck!" Angel hissed. "What time is it?"

Poison glanced at the clock. "Four thirty," she said. "Thank god it's summer."

"Still, we gotta get going if we want to get my spear back," Angel said, hopping around the room as she pulled her boots on. "Damn, damn, damn. I wish I had an alarm."

Phobia was still yawning. "You and your stupid Drac boyfriend," she mumbled dreamily, eyes half-closed.

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Why are you so anxious to see him then?" Phobia clearly wasn't fully all there yet.

"To get my spear back, you doofus!" Angel said, rapping her fist on Phobia's skull. "Wake up already!"

Once they were ready, the three girls tiptoed through the house and out the door. Fortunately Harmony and Midas were still asleep. Midas didn't need to get up until the afternoon, when most Sanctum residents roused themselves, and Harmony would sleep through anything.

The journey to the ridge took less than an hour, such was the haste of the three girls, particularly Angel. She was frantic to know if her spear had survived the night. A growing, gnawing knot took hold in her stomach. What would she find when they got to the ridge? Would the Drac boy have run off with it? Did he break it? Would he even still be alive? A horrible image took hold in her mind – the boy, starkly dead, body riddled with laser burns. Belongings looted. Her spear, snapped broken. Angel forced the image to the back of mind, not wanting to think of the worst.

Eventually they got to the plateau, just as the sun was beginning to rise up over the horizon. It was a wonderful sight, but Angel couldn't dwell on it. She ran straight to the boulder where she told the Drac to meet her. He wasn't there.

Her first instinct was to panic – he'd run off with it, he'd been killed, it was broken, it was gone. She gulped for air, trying to stay calm.

"Hey, Angel!" Phobia pointed to the ground. Angel stared in disbelief at a line of neon spray paint. The mark just screamed _'come and get me, I'm right here'_, it was so vivid. Only an idiot would create such an obnoxiously obvious mark. _Or a rookie Drac,_ Angel mused.

"You guys wait here and hide," she said. Poison nodded and pulled Phobia behind the boulder.

Angel followed the line, which lead all the way to the mouth of a cave. _Shit,_ she thought, _he really has no idea._ She was stunned at his stupidity. Anyone could have followed the mark to the cave and found him, and he would have been easy pickings. Maybe he really was dead. Hopefully her spear had been left alone. She fervently hoped so.

She parted the curtain of roots, entering the cave. She saw the fire first. _Why am I even surprised?_ she thought. _Stupid idiot must have a fucking death wish._

She looked around. There he was, snuggled up in a sleeping bag, dead to the world, perfectly alive. She bet he'd taken sleeping pills too. It was a miracle he'd survived.

"Hey, wake up... yo, wake up!" she called. It took him a moment. He was worse than Phobia, thrashing around in a desperate fight to stay asleep.

"I'm over here, Drac." He looked in her direction, blinking stupidly.

"Uh?"

_Guess it's time for the bitch act,_ Angel decided, crouching beside him. She glared at him, arms crossed. "I'm here to pick up my spear," she snapped.

The Drac looked around blearily, as if unsure of where he was. Various expressions of shock, confusion, and bemusement crossed his face. She could practically see the cogs turning. Despite herself, she grinned. "You're a slow one in the mornings, aren't you?" she asked dryly.

The Drac blinked and shook his head. "Uh – spear. Um, over there."

Angel nodded and stood up, picking up the spear off the wall. "Good to see you didn't need it," she said. "In fact, you're damn lucky you didn't need it."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have any _idea_ how obvious this cave is?" she asked. The Drac frowned. "I thought it looked pretty hidden," he protested.

Angel shook her head. "If any bandits came by here, they'd have known immediately that someone was in here," she said sternly. "If the smell of smoke or the bright neon _spray paint_ didn't tip them off, the fact that you used a pretty common cave for squatting would have. Don't they teach you how to survive out here in that fancy city?"

"We ran over the basics," the Drac growled defensively. "Basically, the idea is to _not_ get stuck out here."

"Well, you did a mighty fine job of screwing that one up. You're lucky you're still alive."

She hefted the spear and walked towards the entrance of the cave. "Thanks, and good luck getting back to the city," she said. "You'd better start walking if you want to get there before dark."

"Wait!" the Drac said. Angel stopped. What on earth would he want?

"Um," the Drac said, still looking half-asleep. "I didn't catch your name."

Angel snorted. He really was an idiot. "That's 'cause I didn't _give_ it to you," she snapped. "Remember? I'm not going to hand my identity over to a Drac."

"It's not as if you showed me where you live," he insisted. "And I didn't exactly get to grab a picture of you. So I can't report you or put you on the wanted list. Besides, apart from threatening a BL/ind agent, you haven't even committed any crimes we can publicly condemn you for. So you're pretty safe."

Angel didn't believe him. She didn't trust him.

"If it helps, my name's Stuart," he offered.

Angel nearly laughed. He really was stupid. "You're an idiot," she said. "You seriously have got to be the worst Drac I've ever heard of. Giving out your name like that, no wonder I was able to catch you so easily."

She smiled properly. "Just for that, I'm telling you my name, you're too incompetent to figure my identity out anyway even if you tried."

She parted the curtain of roots. Just as she stepped out, she called back, "Angel. My name's Angel."

"Wait!" Stuart called, but she was gone, sprinting as fast as she could from the cave. She streaked past the boulder, hissing "Phobia, Poison, come on!" She didn't stop to look, hearing the crunch of boots on gravel as they hurried after her.

She didn't stop running for a while. Even after Phobia and Poison called for her to stop, she kept going, fear and adrenaline spurring her on. It wasn't until she was about to vomit that she stopped, dry retching at the dusty rock beneath her.

Her body felt like lead. She sank to the ground, clunking ungracefully to the rocks. Her hip hit a stray rock and it hurt, but she couldn't – didn't want to move. She didn't want to breathe or think. She just wanted to lie here until it all went away.

"Angel... Angel!"

The voices, though faint, grew slowly louder. Angel realised it was Poison and Phobia. They'd fallen behind, she realised.

Eventually they caught up to her. Poison sat down beside her. "What happened in there?" she asked?

"He asked my name," Angel said.

The girls were quiet for a moment. Then Phobia asked, "Did you give it to him?"

Angel nodded. The girls were quiet while this bit of information settled on them.

"Why?" Phobia asked.

"He's stupid," Angel said. "So, so stupid. He picked the most obvious cave, he marked it out with goddamn spray paint, he had a fire going, he even took sleeping pills. He wasn't on guard when he woke up, even before he saw it was just me. He just sat there like a vegetable. He told me his name. Stuart. I almost felt bad, it's a miracle he lasted as long as he did. So I told him my name. It's not like he's going to be able to hunt me down. He's too stupid even for that."

She felt herself laughing. "He's like a baby, he really is. I don't know how he became a Drac, I thought Dracs were meant to be smart. Scary. Evil. But he's far from it... he's innocent. A baby. That's all he is. I don't know if he'll even make it back to BC."

Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"He'll probably die."

By the time the girls got home, it was mid-afternoon. The Sanctum was in the full swing of business – the girls had to dodge carts, bikes and motorcycles as they made their way through the business district. Children played in the streets as they left the business end for the suburbs, the younger Coloured kids stopping to stare at Phobia. They slowed down as children swarmed Phobia, touching her hair and skin and asking questions.

"Hey, Harmony!" Angel called as they entered the house. Phobia instantly realised something was wrong. She could smell the iron stench of fear and blood, and even before they entered the house she'd been able to hear whooping gasps and stern talking, but it hadn't clicked until the smell hit her nose.

"Angel," she said urgently, but it was too late.

Harmony was in the living room with Donorcycle and Kitty. But this wasn't just a birthing exercise.

"Harmony?" Angel asked, her voice high and tense.

"H-hey, sweetheart," Harmony said between gasps.

"I guess the bunny decided to stretch its legs."


	7. Chapter 7

_In, out._

In, out.

In, out.

Ignore the pain, push through the pain. Stay calm, stay calm.

"We've got to get her to Ace's," Donorcycle was saying.

"But he's not here!" Angel said. Dear Angel. Always so serious, hard-edged like a triangle. Her little voice of reason, her realist. But sharp edges was not what Harmony needed now.

In, out.

In, out.

Someone was taking hold of her, lifting her up. Strong warm arms. "Can you stand for me, Harmony?" Donorcycle was saying. "Come on, girl, stand for me."

Her legs felt weak, rubbery. Not like the strong legs of the rabbit that was kicking its way out of her.

"I c-c-c-"

"Come on girl, we've got to go."

"Ace gave us a key," Angel said. "But -"

"The room is set up, that's all we need. Just so long as we can get in. Where's Midas?"

An image sprang to Harmony's mind. Midas' strong, muscled back. Black enamelled steel. "Car," she murmured.

"Where's the car?"

"Shed."

"Someone get the father in here, he needs to be here."

In the corner of her eye, Harmony glimpsed Poison sprinting from the room. Quick and lithe as a cricket, that girl. She'd been like that once. Would she be like that again? Or was her time up?

She mused on the idea of death. Surely falling into Gaea's embrace would be better than this.

Another powerful band of pain wrapped around her body. She gritted her teeth. "Don't kick so hard, little rabbit," she whimpered.

"She's dilating fast," Kitty said. "This baby should be out soon."

And then Donorcycle's arms were gone, and Harmony was wrapped into a warm, golden familiar embrace. Warmth spread through her body. Was her Midas turning her body to gold?

"Someone should have told me she was in labour," his voice thundered through her body. It reverberated into her bones, silencing the rabbit momentarily. "Oh don't be afraid, he's your father," Harmony murmured.

"What's wrong with her?" His voice was terse. "You didn't give her drugs or some shit?"

"No, she's just in a lot of pain," Kitty said. "It's making her a little delirious. We can give her some natural pain relief once we get her to the birthing room -"

"Well then why didn't you say so?"

She felt herself lifted, up up and up; towards the sky, into the clouds. She felt herself being carried, transported, transferred – she winced through another wave of pain.

"Open the goddamn door!" Keys jangling, sharp and musical through her haze of pain.

She must have blacked out momentarily, because suddenly she was being laid down. She was no longer in her lover's warm embrace, but in the cold clasp of the birthing chair. She panicked; she sat up and reached out for Midas, grabbing his hand.

"M-Midas," she whimpered, and he was there; arms wrapped around her torso, just above the heaving swollen mass that was her rabbit forcing its way out of her body. Cracking ribs, tearing flesh; its feet were powerful.

The smell of smoke and sandalwood tickled her nose; various herbs and scents were thrust under her nose. These were the ones that were supposed to dull the pain. Were they working? She couldn't tell.

In, out.

In, out.

A fan was turned on; waves of hot air buffeted across her skin. A cold cloth scraped over her forehead. Everything felt so strange, so surreal.

It was happening. She'd prepared nine months for this moment, and now that it was finally happening, she felt so vulnerable and underprepared. Why hadn't they smuggled in real painkillers? Why wasn't Acetone here? Why had the breaking waters come as such a shock to her?

"I d-don't want to die," she gasped.

Pain, so much pain. High pitched screaming. Was that her? She honestly didn't know. She didn't think she'd be able to make any noise through her gasping.

In, out.

In, out.

To her slight surprise, her mother's face floated in front of her. "What are you doing here?" Harmony asked. Her mother smiled, kind green eyes reflected hers. A lily-soft hand patted her cheek, long manicured nails gently pressing into her skin.

Through everything, through all the pain and panic and the haze of sounds and smells and sensations, despite it all one voice remained clear as day.

"Florence, my dear, you should concentrate now."

Her last thought before her mind drifted into black was how strange it was that even despite being a ghost, a memory, a hallucination conjured by her panicking mind, her mother still remained so wonderfully, ordinarily practical.

Angel was in shock.

Her sister was in labour, and it was a disaster.

"The baby's fucking backwards!" Donorcycle shrieked. "It rotated _backwards!_ The wrong fucking way around!"

"Donorcycle, shut the fuck up!" Kitty shrieked. Nobody had ever heard Kitty speak louder than a shrill whisper before. Even Donorcycle was stunned into silence.

"We can fix this," Kitty panted, blue-grey eyes steely. "We're goddamned trained doctors, we can do this."

"Is my girlfriend going to die?" Midas asked. His voice was rough, cold. He gripped Harmony around her body as if her body was going to float away with her ever more fragile soul.

"No," Kitty said firmly. "Your baby and your girlfriend will live."

"Kitty, fucking look at this," Donorcycle growled. "That is not a good prognosis -"

"Shut up, Donor."

Angel looked at her hands, and realised that her hands were shaking. They were shaking so hard, they were a blur.

Cool, downy brown hands closed over them. Angel looked up into Phobia's strange pale eyes. She looked so oddly calm. Angel hadn't seen her like this since the spider incident.

"Oh god, oh god," Donorcycle said shakily. "Oh god, Kitty..."

Angel tore her eyes away from Phobia's. Horror crept down her spine when she saw all the red. _Please don't let that be blood, oh god please let it be anything but blood._

The two women appeared to be fighting to stay calm. Angel saw Kitty swaying; her squeamishness was taking over at an awful time.

"Kitty, give me those forceps," Donorcycle demanded. Kitty shakily handed over the forceps. Donorcycle forced the metal implement into Harmony's body, invading her. Angel felt sick.

"I'm going to vomit," she whispered. Phobia thrust a white plastic bowl under her face. Angel gagged into it, dry retching for the second time that day. They hadn't even had their daily meal, and everything was already going so wrong. Had Harmony eaten yet? Did she have enough strength to get through this?

Kitty screamed.

Angel looked up, and had to fight the urge to scream as well, her scream instead manifesting itself into hot tears that ran down her face and into the bowl, mixing with her saliva.

"She's haemorrhaging," Donorcycle said, her voice shaky. "Badly. It's... not good."

Donorcycle only ever spoke like that when things were really bad. Donorcycle never even slightly minced her words, unless she knew that the victim in question was likely going to die.

Her sister was going to die.

At that moment, Phobia suddenly stood up. She strode over to Harmony. As the girl stood up, Angel noticed something odd through her tears. Phobia's eyes were _red_.

She placed a hand on Harmony's cheek, whispering something unintelligible. Angel was sure it wasn't real English. Harmony's eyes closed and her head lolled back, her body going limp.

"Shit!" Midas yelped. He shook Harmony, slapping her cheeks and yelling in her ears. "Wake up, girl! Don't you dare die on me, wake up!"

Phobia forcefully shoved Kitty and Donorcycle aside. Angel was stunned by her strength; Donorcycle wasn't small.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Donorcycle roared, trying to shove back. But Phobia held firm.

"Please allow me some room to work," Phobia said. Her voice was unrecognisably cold and composed. Angel wondered if the shock of the event was making her hallucinate. "What are you doing to my girlfriend?" Midas yelled.

She eased the bloody forceps out of Harmony's body, setting them aside on a towel. She quickly inspected the area, eyes passing over the bloody war scene as a quality control inspector might glance over manufactured goods. She did all this with a terrifying air of detached professionalism, her brown hands nimbly and easily doing the work as if she'd done this before. And then Phobia then shoved her hands up into Harmony's body.

Donorcycle yelped, Kitty promptly fainted. Midas fell into a stunned silence, his jaw agape. Angel swayed, realising that she was about to faint too.

It was all over in a few seconds. Phobia rummaged around for a moment, then withdrew her bloody arms. In her arms was a baby. A screaming, alive, gloriously alive baby. Not deformed, but wholly and utterly perfect. Phobia dumped the wailing child into a stunned Donorcycle's arms.

"If you would cut the cord and clean the child for me please, Doctor," she said with the unruffled serenity of an airplane stewardess.

She reached up and with one long, bloody finger drew a red line down Harmony's sweaty forehead. The line faded, absorbing eerily into Harmony's sweaty skin. To Angel's absolute disbelief, she watched the red recede. The huge pool of blood appeared to be flowing _back into Harmony's body_. Glorious pink colour filled Harmony's cheeks as she flushed with her restored supply of blood.

Phobia watched serenely as all of the blood – even the blood on her hands – flowed back into Harmony, then she turned and looked at Angel. Her eyes widened in what looked like surprise as they changed back from red to white, and she slumped forward. Angel caught the prone girl just in time.

Harmony jolted awake, gasping and wheezing. "What happened?" she asked shrilly. "I blacked out, what's going on? My baby!"

Donorcycle thrust the baby into Harmony's outstretched arms. Angel watched as tears rolled down Harmony's face, the woman's body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. Midas sighed in relief, Angel saw his eyes were shiny with suppressed emotion. The couple stared down at their long-awaited baby.

"I agree, what the hell just happened?" Donorcycle asked, staring at Phobia's prone body.

Angel ignored her, looking at her new baby niece. "It's a girl," she said in disbelief.

Harmony smiled at her child through her tears. She wiped a cloth over the baby's dark skin, revealing tufts of pink and white hair. The baby opened its watery eyes, revealing a deep rosy red gaze. "We can call her her full name then," she said, sniffing.

"I guess little Bunny Rabbit finally kicked her way out."

When Phobia awoke, she had no recollection of the incident. Though Angel and Poison interrogated her thoroughly, they could draw no explanation of what had truly happened in that surreal moment. Phobia just stared at them blankly while Angel recounted the event, blinking in surprise as she described how Phobia delivered the child and saved Harmony.

"I just don't remember," Phobia insisted. "I really don't."

However, Phobia appeared extremely unsettled. She kept frowning, a sliver of fear flickering into her wide pale eyes. Her pupils were narrowed into tiny slits. She kept blinking as if in confusion, staring at Angel almost as if she didn't recognise her. For the rest of the day, she wandered around as if in a daze, jumping if anyone touched her or said her name. She was distracted, fearful. And even Phobia didn't seem able to understand why.

By contrast, Harmony and Midas were practically dancing in the air. Despite being exhausted and in pain from the birth, Harmony still bounced around the house, singing and rocking the baby in her arms. Midas left the house to announce the birth in the streets, hugging every person he saw and deliriously inviting everyone and anyone to a spontaneous "birthday party". He even took the car to Black Jack's, and came back with the big man himself, who cooed over the baby like a grandmother – a bizarre sight.

Donorcycle officially signed Kitty off as an experienced midwife, congratulating her on her first birth and signing the Battery City St Gerard's Institute of Obstetrics and Midwifery forms that confirmed Kitty as a qualified nurse and midwife. Kitty could officially go back to Battery City and start her career as a nurse, but she tearfully announced in a somewhat alcohol-slurred speech that she would be staying in The Sanctum to offer her services as long as she was needed.

The house was filled with celebration and activity as neighbours visited to see the child and congratulate Harmony and Midas, bringing gifts, food and drink, even beer and other alcoholic drinks. Everyone was amazed and ecstatic that Harmony had successfully survived her first birth. Births tended to be followed by partying and celebration, as it was not common for both mother and child to emerge healthy and virtually unscathed from a birth. Angel still remembered the births of Dinah and Alice, particularly Dinah's birth, as it was borderline miraculous for a woman to successfully carry two consecutive pregnancies, let alone survive both, let alone birth two healthy babies. Carol loudly expressed how impressed she was over a bottle of vodka, and went on to describe in graphic detail the births of her two daughters, and upon her describing of their conception Lewis red-facedly guided his wife into the basement for a nap.

By mid-afternoon, everyone but Harmony, the three girls and the baby were red-cheeked, tearful and melodramatically emotional. Eventually the girls gently escorted the guests out of the house amidst proclamations of love and support, so that Harmony and the baby could get some rest. Midas put his wife to bed, then left the house to continue spreading the good news.

When they finished cleaning the house, the girls left for the plateau. They recalled the events of the party with much laughter, Poison doing a hilarious impression of Carol's drunken anecdotes. However Angel noticed that Phobia was still quieter than usual, her face frowning into a worried expression whenever she thought the others weren't looking.

Later, as they sat on the edge of the cliff watching the sunset, Angel worked up the guts to ask.

"Phobia, what's wrong?" she asked.

Phobia looked away, not meeting Angel's eyes. Angel took her hand. "C'mon, you made me tell you what was wrong yesterday, you can't wriggle out now," she reminded her. "Otherwise it's not fair."

"Yeah, we need to tell each other this stuff," Poison agreed. "No secrets, remember?"

Phobia was chewing her lip. Her sharp canine made angry red marks on her skin.

"I just don't understand what happened today," she said. Her voice was timid, fearful. "I mean, one second I was holding Angel's hand, the next you guys were standing over me, asking what I'd done, how I'd done it. I had no idea what you guys were talking about. I blanked out completely."

She blinked. "No, that's not true," she said. "Not completely. But.. something weird happened. I think I was dreaming, or hallucinating, or something.

"Whatever I was doing, I wasn't with you guys... I can't remember what happened very well. But I remember everything was bright and colourful. Like a kaleidoscope. It hurt my eyes. But someone was holding me, and they were all white, and they were telling me it was okay.

"She was so white, her skin, her hair, even her nails and lips were painted white. Her clothes.. I don't know what she was wearing, some kind of dress poncho cloak thing? I couldn't tell, it was made up of all these layers of transparent fabric, all fluttering and floating. She was all white, but her eyes were red, I remember that. She was so beautiful. I think I felt like she was my mother... I don't know for sure, I've never had a mother so I wouldn't know. But I just wanted to curl up to her, I wanted her to hold me and protect me. I liked her telling me it would all be okay.

"I don't understand it. She could have been from BL/ind, she could have been from my past, she could have just been some kind of hallucination. But she was so calm and serene when before I'd been so scared, and all I knew was that she was perfect and she would make everything okay."

Phobia stopped biting her lip, but her forehead was still creased into a frown.

"I just wish I knew who she was," she said. "I've been trying to work it out all day, but I've got nothing. It scares me, because it sounds like I wasn't myself when I saved Harmony.. it sounds weird just saying it. I just don't think that was me. My body did it, but it wasn't me."

She glanced at both Angel and Poison, her eyes pleading. "I just want to know what happened," she said. "I want an explanation. That's why I've been acting weird, it's because I've been trying to work it out, and I'm afraid about what it could be."

The walk back to the Sanctum was quiet, but the three girls walked hand in hand. Angel felt safe and comfortable with them, and with their close and easy friendship. Everything was just so uncertain and strange and full of dangers, but being with the girls made her feel sheltered and protected from it.

When they got back to the house, Midas was back, rocking the baby who'd woken up while Harmony was still sleeping. He grinned at the girls, calling them over.

"Hey baby, these are your aunties," he cooed, holding Bunny up so she could stare wide-eyed at the girls. "This one's Aunty Angel –" Angel obligingly smiled and kissed the child on her downy cheek; "This one's Aunty Poison –" Poison too nuzzled Bunny's cheek and cooed softly at her; "And this is Aunty Phobes!" Phobia leaned down and rubbed her nose against the child's; she gurgled happily and batted Phobia's cheek with a tiny outstretched hand.

"And those are your aunties! You all good to go back to Mama, now?" Midas continued, smiling at the girls, who made their way back to Angel's room. Even in the room, the girls could still hear Midas softy singing and cooing as he rocked the baby to sleep.

"Are you going to christen or baptize her?" Poison asked. Angel shrugged. "I dunno, Harmony's not Christian," she said. "She might make up her own ceremony based on Gaea or something, I'd have no idea."

"She's one cute kid," Phobia said. Angel grinned. "She is, isn't she?" she mused. "It's gonna be interesting seeing how she grows up."

Over the next few days, the little family threw themselves into the first tedious months of raising a baby. Midas had to take days off to help take care of Bunny; to help support the family, the girls began making jewellery and accessories to keep Harmony's jewellery stall going. Poison even showed the girls how to make oatmeal soap, something the girls made plenty of – soap was always popular in the Sanctum, as it was hard to come by yet very much a perceived need. The girls themselves rarely used it though – as Angel put it, "What's the use of soap when we barely have enough water to wash ourselves anyway?"

Angel noticed how Phobia was surprisingly good with baby Bunny. Despite not being particularly socially adept, Phobia was unexpectedly comfortable with the child. Indeed, Bunny was infatuated with her. If Bunny was crying, all they had to do was to give her to Phobia – she would stop immediately and instead gaze curiously up at her aunt with a contented smile.

Angel also noticed how Harmony was beginning to feel about this. She didn't miss Harmony's reluctance to pass over a screaming Bunny to Phobia, only to watch the child fall silent in another woman's arms, nor did she miss the jealous glances Harmony stole when Phobia and Bunny played together.

She felt bad for Harmony. The child was in the strange situation that her mother was a different species, and the only person who was the same species was completely unrelated to her. The supernatural effect Phobia held over children only reinforced this. Even though Harmony was aware of it though, she couldn't help but be jealous.

One evening, while Phobia and Poison were playing outside with Bunny, Harmony actually burst into tears and threw her arms around Angel. "I wish she'd never come," she sobbed. "She's _my_ baby, not hers! I'm supposed to be her favourite!"

Angel knew Harmony didn't mean it. She was fond of Phobia, like everyone else. But Angel understood her jealousy, too. Of course as the child grew older it would recognise that Phobia was just an aunt, but Angel understood how Harmony could be fearful that Bunny would recognise Phobia as her mother, not her. It was an awkward situation.

However the situation only grew worse as Harmony's resent for Phobia grew. To Angel's horror, she realised that Harmony had started to keep the child from Phobia, even running to the basement to keep Bunny to herself when she started crying.

Phobia was becoming aware of the situation too, and Angel saw how this upset her. Phobia was torn between wanting to keep Harmony happy and wanting to spend time with the baby. She was also hurt that Harmony had begun to resent her. She couldn't help what was happening, after all. And then Phobia began to resent Harmony too.

Angel prayed that the situation would end, that Harmony and Phobia would drop this stupid conflict, that they would realise that the baby was simply being a baby, and just raise the baby together already. This happened all the time – sometimes babies would prefer the father over the mother, or even a relative. Of course Phobia was neither the father nor technically a relative, but the point was that Harmony's insecurity was irrelevant, pointless. Angel wished that Harmony would just realise this already and the two women would get over it.

Unfortunately, however, the situation was to end, and not necessarily in the way Angel would have wanted it to.


End file.
